


Fantasies

by Snailhair



Series: Solo [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom Cas, Bottom Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy Fulfillment, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Panties, Pie, Sabriel on the side, Sex on the Beach, Smut, Sub Dean, Top Cas, Top Dean, angelic mojo, dom Cas, it's basically porn y'all, sex in public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9987686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snailhair/pseuds/Snailhair
Summary: After Dean attempts to explain his greatest fantasy to Castiel, the angel does his best to turn it into a reality. And the two of them embark on a secret endeavor to fulfill all of their sexual fantasies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Welcome to part four of the Solo Series! (It's about time, right?) ;) Before you start reading, I just want to remind you that from here on out, Sabriel will be a reoccurring theme in the story. In fact, Sam and Gabriel have their own version - "Forbidden Fruit" - that takes place at the exact same time, in case you are curious to know what Sammy's up to. I'll be posting the Destiel and Sabriel chapters together everyday so that you'll always be in the loop! ;) Thank you guys so much for following this story! I hope you enjoy! :)

Watching Dean prepare for bed had become one of Castiel's favorite pastimes.

The man was slow but deliberate with his motions, using his feet to place his shoes side-by-side at the foot of the bed, while he eased out of his jacket. Castiel's eyes observed every delicate muscle twitch in the man's arms as Dean tugged his belt open and slid it out from around his thick waist. Dean was always careful to place his clothing back into his duffel bag, never leaving stray pieces to lay prey to the uncleanliness of the motel room. Castiel admired Dean's dedication to his personal possessions. It showed how much he truly appreciated the smallest things life gave him, even if it was a simple set of clothing.

“Enjoying the show?”

The angel's eyes snapped up to Dean's face at the sound of his low, seductive voice. The man's emerald eyes stared playfully at Castiel as he stuffed his belt into his dark bag. Cas swallowed the moisture in his mouth, feeling arousal threatening to blossom in his lower region. Yes. He did, indeed, enjoy watching Dean's body move in any fashion, especially when clothing was being removed from it. And he wanted to state this fondness out loud – but his eyes flicked to the right side of the room, where Sam was also preparing for bed. The younger Winchester wasn't paying any attention to them of course, but Castiel didn't want to make him uncomfortable in case he was secretly listening.

In the small gap of time in which Castiel pondered on answering Dean's quiet question, Dean had begun to slowly slip his jeans down his legs. The man's eyes were still glued to Castiel's – still teasing the angel with a smug expression – as he bent over to step out of his pants. The man's buttocks and thighs were gloriously accentuated by his tight black underwear, teasing Castiel further by flexing in an alluring manor. Intercourse was suddenly all the angel could think about. Penetrating Dean's narrow opening was the only thought in his mind. Blood was suddenly rushing to fill Cas's stiffening member -

“Hey, guys?”

Dean and Castiel both looked in the direction of Sam's voice. The angel half expected Sam to be wearing a look of disgust; perhaps aware of the private moment between his brother and the angel. But, instead, Sam was holding up the small bag of candy he had carried into the motel room. His eyes were slightly narrowed with warning.

“Don't eat any of this, okay?” he requested, his face appearing to flush as he stowed the sweets into his bed-side table.

Castiel nodded, feeling the blood slowly draining away from his lower half. He could understand, now, what Dean meant when he stated that Sam could be a 'buzz kill.' Sam's distraction was just enough to smolder the angel's lust. Dean, however, was rolling his eyes.

“Well, that's real nice of you share-bear, ” he spat, picking up his discarded jeans to place them in his duffel bag, “but fine. We'll leave it alone. As long as you make me a deal.”

Castiel joined Sam in looking at Dean with curiosity. The angel was just as confused as Sam, unaware of what Dean was about to request.

“What?” Sam blurted.

Dean gave a nod toward Castiel before allowing a smile to grace his lips.

“You let Cas sleep in bed with me, without bitching about it,” he stated, raising an eyebrow, “and I won't touch a single gummy bear.”

Castiel's heart rate increased. He adored the very thought of laying next to Dean; sharing the same breath as their limbs found each other under the sheets, being lovingly smothered by the man's intoxicating scent while he clung to his warm body... The angel's eyes darted back to Sam, hoping to see agreement cross his features. With a heavy sigh, Sam shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine,” he mumbled, pointing a threatening finger toward Dean and Castiel, “but if I hear so much as a whimper from over there -”

“Relax,” Dean interrupted, waving a dismissing hand in Sam's direction, “we're not gonna do that shit while you're here. That's just creepy, Sam. We're just gonna sleep.”

“Angels don't sleep,” Sam grumbled, sliding into bed.

Dean was tugging Castiel toward him when he shot a raised brow at his brother.

“How would you know?” Dean asked playfully.

A strange look flashed across Sam's face at Dean's words; an expression of fear mixed with bashfulness. Castiel watched a blush instantly rise to fill Sam's cheeks.

“Uh, g – goodnight,” Sam suddenly stuttered, quickly reaching up to click off his bed-side lamp before rolling over.

Though Castiel sort of wanted to ask Sam why he appeared to be so embarrassed, his attention was caught by Dean's hands. The man's strong but tender fingers where tugging the angel's coat down his arms, removing the fabric to lay it on top of his own duffel bag. Cas wondered why Dean was disrobing him, especially now, in the presence of his brother. They weren't about to engage in more intercourse, here and now – were they? Dean carefully yanked the blue tie off Castiel's neck and tossed it with the coat before undoing the top three buttons of Cas's white shirt. After that, Dean was backing toward the bed; his precious pink lips smirking as he slid between the sheets.

“Take your shoes off,” the man suggested in a whisper.

Castiel was a bit confused. Was this some odd form of foreplay? Were they about to perform intercourse while Sam was in the room?

“Why?” the angel breathed, wanting to understand.

“It's more comfortable in bed without them,” he replied, his green eyes so beautiful in the dim light, “Besides, I think we keep the sheets dirty enough.”

“I heard that.” Sam's mumble echoed from his side of the room.

Dean was holding down a laugh at his brother's comment as Castiel stepped out of his shoes. He carefully placed the black shoes next to Dean's boots at the end of the bed. As he backed toward the headboard, the angel couldn't help but think that they looked oddly perfect that way – the worn, black soles arranged in an orderly fashion next to the faded, mud-caked boots. Perhaps this was how Dean and Castiel appeared when they stood next to one another; Oddly perfect.

Dean was holding up the large blanket as Castiel gently lowered himself to lay down. The man's body heat was the first thing Cas's senses were aware of, followed by Dean's dizzying aroma. Castiel's arms snaked their way around Dean's warm frame almost instantly, horizontally pressing their fronts together. The angel sighed as Dean draped the heavy blanket over them. Lustful intimacy was one thing, but _this_ – having his own body touch Dean's with clothes still between them, and yet, still being able to feel so spiritually aroused – was something entirely different.

“I love you,” Castiel breathed, the whispered words slipping from his tongue like a drop of water running down glass.

The smile that lit up Dean's freckled face made the angel ache with happiness. The man stretched his mouth forward to press against Cas's, letting his hand clutching a handful of the angel's white shirt. Their tongues slid meaningfully together for a moment, just long enough for Castiel to feel heat beginning to burn in his stomach, before Dean pulled away.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into Castiel's mouth.

Castiel smiled, enjoying the look of bliss and playfulness in Dean's eyes.

“Do me a favor,” the man suddenly breathed, his emerald eyes searching Castiel's face, “Don't ever let me push you away again, okay? Don't let me be a dick to you, Cas.”

A delicate tingle emanated from the angel's chest, reminding him of Dean's recent internal battle with his deceased father; how just the thought of John's reaction caused Dean to be in dire emotional pain. And it made Castiel tense with anger, knowing how much terrifying power John Winchester held over his sons... even from beyond the grave...

“But, if I ever am,” Dean added, breaking Castiel away from his thoughts with a suggestive smirk, “you're more than welcome to spank me...”

Castiel gulped, seeing the seductiveness in Dean's eyes. Was he truly giving Cas permission to physically reprimand him? _Erotically_? An aggravated groan came from the other side of the room.

“I heard that too,” Sam grumbled, sounding terribly weary.

“Go to sleep, Sammy,” Dean called, his face flushing, “We have a big day tomorrow, dammit.”

With his statement still lingering in the air, Dean snuggled close to Castiel; forcing himself deeper into the angel's arms and laying his cheek softly against Cas's shoulder. Castiel cradled Dean in his grasp, feeling the man's lungs slowly expanding and retracting – and his heart steadily beating. The gentle drum against his own chest was enough to make Castiel's smile widen. He briefly pressed his lips to Dean's temple; stamping it with a protective and loving kiss.

* * *

Castiel was mindful to lay perfectly still all night as to not stir Dean from his sleep. Both Winchesters were peaceful for the longest time. The soft sound of Sam's gentle snores echoed through the room as Dean shifted next to Castiel. The older man had long since rolled onto his back with his head tilted toward the ceiling as his arms lay limply at his sides. The angel always found comfort in studying Dean's physical form. The endless spectrum of freckles, the ridged lines of veins etched under his taut skin, the steady rhythm of his strong heartbeat...

Close to three o'clock that morning, however, something began to change. Dean's slow breathing began to pick up pace. His heart was beginning to pump faster and more fiercely. Castiel eased up to inspect the man's face, worried that he might be having a nightmare. There were sudden flashes of expression – the twitch of an eye brow, and the slight curl of a lip – but nothing the angel could decipher.

“Nuh.”

Castiel blinked down at Dean's face, feeling a strange reminiscence. He had witnessed Dean do this before; watched him cry out and thrash around in his sleep. The first time, Dean had been dreaming something erotic and it caused his body to react. Was it happening again? Was his dream arousing him? Castiel carefully lifted the blanket to look down between them, hoping to see if his assumptions were correct. And there, just peeking out from the top hem of Dean's dark underwear, was the head of his erection.

Dean's legs suddenly shifted, causing the erection to slide out more into the open. Cas could feel that he, himself, was becoming aroused at the sight of the large pink head jutting up Dean's stomach. It was a lovely sight to behold, seeing the man's member growing with stiffness. It was as if Dean's erection had become its own entity, growing and throbbing like it knew Castiel was watching it... Cas brought his sight back to the man's face. Was Dean dreaming something vulgar once more?

“Ah,” the sound escaped Dean's mouth as a sigh.

What beautiful scene was taking place in Dean's mind, this time? The curiosity was too much for Castiel. A small peek probably wouldn't harm him. The angel carefully slid a hand onto Dean's forehead and began to submerge himself beneath the waves of the man's subconscious. Dean's dream took shape around him, displaying the true origin of his body's reactions.

It was a dark room, only lit with hanging shaded lamps. Each one was positioned over a long green table which housed an array of numbered balls. Castiel assumed this was a place Dean visited many times in real life because the scene was so realistic; smoky air, the faint smell of alcohol, vibrant colors... Perhaps he had played a game here. A sound was loud in the room as well. A sound that Castiel knew all too well.

Dean's erotic cries were echoing from behind him. The angel carefully turned to see that Dean was bent over one of the green tables. He was completely unclothed and groaning beautifully, as a dream version of Castiel penetrated him from behind. The real Castiel could feel an abundance of sexual satisfaction in Dean's subconscious. The man was craving this in the worst way; almost identifying it as a necessity.

“Harder, Cas,” Dean begged in a whimper, panting as he quaked on top of the table, “P – please!”

Castiel took the time to appraise the version of himself in Dean's dream. He was thrusting into Dean's backside, gripping the man's hips with enough force to severely bruise him. This was all very normal to Castiel. The angel was used to Dean's lust for dominance. The odd part, however, was that the dream version of Cas was entirely chrome. His metal skin was smooth and shining sleekly in the dim light. Every part of him was chrome, save his powerfully electric blue eyes. The angel tilted his head in bewilderment as he watched the metal form pounding brutally into Dean. Why did this arouse Dean so much? What was it about the texture of smooth metal sliding in and out of him that made Dean ache with lust?

“Moan, Dean,” the metal angel demanded, his voice reverberating off the walls as he thrust deeper into the man, “Beg for it.”

“Ca – Cas!” Dean whined, curling against the table, “Ah! M – more!”

Castiel could feel himself becoming aroused at the abnormal sight of Dean being violently penetrated by the metal angel, even though the entire act was so bizarre. Just like watching Dean's other dream, Cas felt he needed to service the man. Dean's urge for intercourse was so overwhelming that Castiel could almost feel his pain. The pain of needing to ejaculate...

The angel swiftly maneuvered his way back out of Dean's subconscious, returning to the motel bed. Dean was now panting in his sleep; limbs twitching, head rolling back and forth, his heart thumping almost visibly against his chest. Castiel couldn't help but glance back down at Dean's erection. The shaft had doubled in size, swelling to reach far up his heaving stomach and still flicking in Cas's direction with conviction. It was begging to be touched; to be nursed the manner that only Castiel had mastered...

But Sam was still in the room. Castiel glanced urgently between Dean's thrashing body beside him and Sam's slumbering form in the distance. A choice was clearly going to have to be made; Either quench Dean's thirst for physical climax, or allow him to suffer in the wake of the promise he made to his younger brother. Castiel felt terribly torn, hearing Dean's grunts mixing with Sam's quiet snores. Dean's breathing was infectious, causing the angel's own lungs to work faster. What should Cas do?

“Uh,” Dean whimpered softly, his tone high, “ _C – Cas_...”

Hearing his own name being called with such yearning was the breaking point for Castiel. The angel gently gripped Dean's shoulders and gave him a firm shake.

“Dean,” he hissed in a whisper, his eyes still flickering towards Sam's side of the room with precaution, “Open your eyes, Dean.”

The bright green eyes fluttered open with a start, darting around the room as Dean flinched awake. As soon as the emerald orbs fell upon Castiel's face, raw passion seemed to ignite in them. Dean grabbed two fistfuls of the angel's white shirt before yanking him down into a furious kiss. Castiel adored the sensation, allowing Dean's tongue to slither around in his mouth as he felt the man thrusting upward. Dean was still hard; apparently finding it difficult to control his pelvis.

“Cas,” he whined, forcing the angel's hand inside his dark underwear as he panted into his face, “Put 'em in.... Please, put 'em in.”

For a moment, Castiel was unsure of what Dean was asking for. What were 'they?' And where was he supposed to 'put them?' But then, as he watched Dean take hold of his own erection and start to pump, Cas understood. Dean was asking to be penetrated by the angel's fingers.

Castiel glanced toward Sam's side of the room again, making sure he was still asleep, before bringing his own hand to his mouth. He slicked his own fingers with saliva before reaching down to slip them between Dean's thighs and rub them against Dean's tight entrance. A generous moan escaped Dean's chapped lips at the touch.

“Shh,” the angel warned, instinctively reaching his free hand up to cover the man's mouth.

Hot air rushing in and out of Dean's nose brushed over Cas's fingers as another groan rumbled under his palm. Castiel's eyes snapped toward Sam, thankful to see that he hadn't moved. Dean's fist was moving in a blur along his erection, tugging skillfully at the organ while his other hand clutched at Cas's shoulder. The angel kept in mind to be gentle as he wiggled two fingers inside the ring of muscle.

“Mmm!” Dean grunted underneath Cas's hand, his eyes blowing wide.

Castiel was panting right along with Dean as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of the man's tight hole. The muscle was clenching around them; teasing Cas with the sensation of intercourse. His own member was throbbing inside his clothes as he watched and felt Dean rising to orgasm. Dean's hips were rocking fiercely now, urging Castiel to quicken pace while he bucked into his own fist. The angel could see the pleasure mounting in the man's green eyes; the fire of lust burning white hot -

With a gorgeous moan that caused Castiel's own erection to twitch, Dean's organ was spouting semen. The white fluid doused his entire torso as he lay convulsing on the bed. Cas made sure to keep stimulating him, massaging his heated insides as he climaxed. The sight was so beautiful. No matter how many times he witnessed it, watching Dean become intoxicated with pleasure was always able to astound Castiel.

After giving his hard shaft two more slow tugs, Dean's hand fell away. He lay back flat against the bed and panted as he stared hazily up at the ceiling. Castiel gently lifted his hand from the man's mouth and removed his fingers from the tight opening. Dean was exquisitely spent; drunk with pleasure and deliciously exposed. Once the man had calmed down, Castiel took the time to glance towards Sam's side of the room one more time. By some miracle, the younger Winchester had never stirred.

“Holy... _shit_ ,” Dean panted, rolling his hazy green eyes toward Cas, “That... was good.”

Castiel's earlier personal inquiries returned to mind as he stared down at Dean's glistening, smiling face. The angel sat up in the bed and glanced along Dean's mostly exposed body as he pondered things. Cas felt he needed to know why Dean's dreams were so strange; why Dean depicted him as a dominating metal machine, why he enjoyed forceful intercourse. Was this some sort of medical condition? Was this behavior normal?

“Dean,” Cas breathed, unable to bear the weight of these questions any longer, “Why do you dream of me?”

Dean's smile widened a bit. With shaky arms, the man raised to join Cas in sitting up. He was still quivering with the aftershock of orgasm, but reached out a trembling hand to lay on Castiel's thigh.

“Why _wouldn't_ I?” he rebutted in a whisper, chapped lips smirking, “You're the best damn thing I've ever had.”

Castiel gulped at Dean's loving statement. It was nice to hear, but not the answer he needed.

“No, Dean. I mean, why do you dream of my vessel being chrome?” he revised, “Why do you crave for me to subjugate you with dominance?”

Dean's face appeared to redden in the dark. He, too, glanced toward Sam's side of the room before looking back. A shy smile remained on his lips as he gripped the angel's thigh.

“It's... It's just a fantasy, Cas,” Dean explained, giving a small shrug, “Everybody's got one. It's just something you want, but can't really have, you know? Something that's impossible. Like... I know Bobby would love to bang the shit outta Bo Derek, but he doesn't have a chance in hell with her. So, maybe he fantasizes about having sex with her to take some of the edge off. God,” he paused to shake his head with disgust, “I really should've picked someone else to make an example... But, do you get what I'm saying?”

Castiel tilted his head, feeling a bit offended.

“You do not believe I could be dominant, Dean?” he asked.

“No, I _know_ you can be dominant,” Dean replied instantly, nodding, “Hell, I love it when you go all 'Terminator.' I dream about you being a badass son-of-a-bitch because I know you've got it in you, to make me _beg_ and _come_ and _love_ me like no one else has and it...” he paused a again to clear his throat, appearing slightly embarrassed, “It kinda scares me. But, holy shit... I want it so bad...”

Castiel swallowed harshly in the silence that followed Dean's words. He stared powerfully into the eyes of the man sitting before him, feeling like he had gained instant knowledge. If power and dominance and _love_ were all that Dean truly desired, then Castiel was going to turn his fantasy into a reality.

“I understand now, Dean,” Castiel purred, reaching up to touch the man's soft heated cheek, “I understand everything.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean could tell that there was something on Cas's mind.

The angel had been quiet all morning, barely speaking as he sat motionless across the motel room while Dean and Sam got dressed and ate breakfast. Cas and Dean had exchanged a few start-of-the-day kisses while Sam was in the bathroom, at least. So, Dean knew he wasn't upset or anything. But it kind of bugged him that Cas wasn't talking. The guy just nodded or shook his head when he was spoken to, not even bothering to open that pretty mouth of his.

Dean was used to that 'silent child' type of behavior Cas fell into from time to time – but this silence was different. There was an observant way about him now, when he looked at Dean. It sort of resembled how some rich bastard would study a painting. Those piercing blue eyes seemed to be picking apart Dean from afar, eying specific areas of his physique and scrutinizing him. _Memorizing_ him. Dean couldn't deny that it was a little intimidating; constantly being assessed like a damn Warhol canvas. What the hell was going on in that angelic head of Cas's? Dean sort of wished that he could read the angel's mind just to figure it out.

Dean tried his best to let it go as the day began. He and Sam were on a case now, involving a couple of dead cops. There was no time to pick apart an angel's brain when people were dying in a small town. After finishing up breakfast and with hardly a word between the three of them, Dean, Sam, and Cas all started off for the local police station in the Impala. The angel was in the back seat this time and Dean could still feel those ocean eyes on the back of his head as he drove, still probing him with air-tight concentration. God, it was nearly impossible to shake the angel's stare off. What the hell was Cas doing? Searching to see if Dean had any new paper cuts or something?

It wasn't long before they rolled up to the police station. Dean and Sam got out of the car with Cas following right along behind them and strolled right into the place. They were dressed in their FBI suits and had their fake ID badges in hand, but nobody stopped them on the way in. Dean let Sammy do most of the talking. His little brother asked for the case file at the front desk while Dean and Cas stood back professionally. Even here, Cas's eyes seemed to never depart from Dean. Now, the angel was just staring at his face with bits of curiosity flickering in his sapphire eyes. Dammit, why was Cas staring at him like this?

“Dude,” Dean whispered, leaning close to the angel while everyone else was distracted, “your bedroom eyes are starting to freak me out.”

Cas blinked – geez, was it for the first time today? – and seemed to lighten up on the fierceness. He gave a slight nod before actually turning to face forward. A little relieved, Dean faced forward as well, watching a deputy give Sam a folder and shake his hand. But when the Winchester brothers started down a hallway, Cas lingered to walk behind him and positioned those giant blue orbs on Dean's back yet again.

“They said they've got a witness for us to interview upstairs,” Sam mumbled.

“Alright,” Dean shrugged, stepping almost in stride with his brother.

The three of them turned down another hallway and headed for the elevators.

“Two dead cops, both found beaten to death with their own nightsticks?” Sam sighed as he walked, flipping through the case file, “It sounds ghosty.”

Dean smiled at his brother's words.

“Sounds pretty vengeful, too,” he added, “Hmph. Beaten to death with your own stick. What a way to go, huh?”

Dean tossed his smirk to the angel behind him, hoping to see a smile cross his pretty pink lips. But Cas didn't seem to find it funny – or maybe he didn't get it. He just kinda drew his eyebrows together and gave Dean a blank stare. Sammy, on the other hand, rolled his eyes with aggravation.

“Must you always make a dick joke?” he mumbled, snapping the folder shut in his hand.

Dean glanced between the angel and his brother as they slowed to a stop at the elevator. What the hell was everyone's problem today? Was there some type of ' _act weird around Dean_ ' pact in place between Sam and Cas that he didn't know about? Sam seemed to be in a bitchy mood all morning anyway; glaring at his computer screen and crossing his arms in the car like a whiny teenager. Why was he so upset?

“Who pissed in _your_ Cheerios this morning?” Dean asked, watching his little brother punch the button for the third floor.

Sam didn't even look at Dean. He just stared at the metal doors of the elevator, half-glaring at their distorted reflections. Deep down, Dean was genuinely concerned about Sam. Had he done something to make his little brother upset? And if so, what the hell was it?

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Sam instantly ducked inside. Dean shook his head a little, watching Sam run in and pretend to read the case file near the back corner of the metal compartment. Fine. If Sammy didn't want to talk, then Dean wasn't going to push him. Besides, Cas was enough of a mystery to deal with right now. The angel boarded the elevator too, positioning himself in the opposite corner and pressing his back flat to the wall. Dean took a heavy breath as he stood in front of the staring, blue-eyed angel. Why couldn't everyone just lighten up a little?

An idea came to Dean's mind as he watched the elevator doors slide shut in front of him. Groping someone in an elevator had always been a fantasy of his, ever since he was old enough to know how to _use_ an elevator. And he wanted to turn around and tell Cas about it – but he didn't want to talk about it in front of Sam. A smirk flashed on Dean's face as the metal compartment began to glide upward. Maybe he didn't have to use words at all... Dean glanced up at Sam, making sure the kid was still lost in the case file, before carefully stepping backward. With a gentle thud, Dean deliberately pressed his back to Cas's front – more specifically, he pressed his _ass_ against Cas's _crotch_.

Over the quiet rumble of the elevator, Dean heard the distinct rush of breath exit the angel's mouth behind him; feeling the hot air brush against his ear. The elevator had just passed the second floor when Dean began to grind a little against Cas's pelvis, reaching both hands back on either side of the angel to grab the bar that ran along the wall behind him for leverage. Dean didn't have to turn around to know what this was doing to Cas. He could hear it in the hushed breath escaping the angel's mouth and feel it in the strong hands that reached up to clutch Dean's hips and pull him closer. Oh, yeah. Cas was getting the message, alright. And maybe, just _maybe_ , he could finally understand what it felt like to be in a fantasy.

When Dean gave a single hard thrust back against Cas's lap, the force was enough to jostle the elevator a bit. Cas's tight fingers were digging into Dean's hips as the man flashed another glance toward his brother. Sam blinked up and began to look around the metal compartment, reminding Dean that there was a strong possibility he could get caught. When Sammy turned his head again, Dean used the opportunity to let go of the bar and step forward, away from Cas. He had gotten his point across to the angel. They were almost to the third floor anyway.

Thankfully, Sam remained completely ignorant of the dirty grinding that just taken place beside him. The elevator doors dinged open on the third floor and Sammy led the way out, appearing to glance around in question as if the elevator were to blame for all the strange movement. Once they were out and walking down another hall, Dean took the time to glance back at Cas. Ah, there it was again; that subtle look of dazed arousal that Dean loved to see on the angel's face. The man gave himself a round of applause in his head as he returned his sights forward. Being able to give Cas a starting boner on an elevator, all while Sam was obliviously standing next to them? Damn. Dean deserved a huge chunk of pie for the flawless execution of that stunt...

“Agents.”

Dean raised his head to see an officer stepping up to the three of them at the end of the hall. He was kind of heavy set and reeked of cheap department store cologne. Sam shook hands with him before taking the reigns again.

“Uh, yes. We're here to question mister... Charles Redding. About the recent fatalities?” Sammy asked, sounding as professional as ever.

“Of course,” the officer nodded, his mouth turning downward a little, “Right this way.”

Dean tried to keep up with Sam's long legs as the officer led them into an interview room. The first thing Dean noticed was that the middle of the room was lined with steel bars, cutting the space in half. The half they were standing in housed nothing but a table, which was front and center. A twitchy guy – Dean assumed he had to be hooked on drugs, by the way he was twitching and his eyes darted around – was sitting at the table. Another officer was stationed on the inside of the door, armed with a set of cuffs and a gun. After leading Sam, Dean, and Cas into the room, the over-weight officer nodded toward them.

“I'll be just across the hall if you need anything,” he stated, before walking away.

The officer left the door open when he turned to leave. Dean briefly looked toward Cas again, secretly admiring the sapphire stare that greeted his glance. He could see the lustful agony as clear as day on the angel's face. Sam handed Dean the case file, pulling his attention away from Cas. The man leafed through it and tried to bring his focus back to the case. As much as he would have loved to run off to a broom closet and get frisky with his angel, he couldn't. He needed to get his head in the game here, and help stop these murders.

“Mr. Redding,” Sam began, still sounding professional, “my partners and I are here to talk to you about -”

“I ain't seen nothin',” the guy interrupted, looking away defiantly as he hugged himself.

Dean rolled his eyes. Aw, hell. This guy was gonna be one of _those_ people. Sammy turned to give Dean a look, as if saying, ' _You wanna take this one_?' Putting on his best cop face, Dean eyed the shaky witness and stepped closer.

“Look, man, we know you were there,” Dean said, using a deep tone, “your fingerprints were on the damn cuffs, for god's sake. So, just tell us what happened that night.”

Dean could hear that something was happening in the hallway behind him, but he dismissed it. The drug-addict sitting at the table had raised his eyes to look at him and Dean couldn't risk losing the sudden staring contest just to look back and see what was going on.

“Look, man, I dunno what those cops told ya,” the guy sputtered, the corners of his eyes twitching a bit, “but I ain't seen shit.”

“Really?” Dean growled, angrily flipping open the folder in his hands, “cause that's not what you said in the police report.”

A nervousness flashed on the guy's face as Dean began to step around the room and read aloud from the file. Cas was still watching; still standing solidly by the bars and observing Dean like an art appraiser. Sam, however, had gotten up to look out the door and see what the commotion was about in the hallway.

“ _It was like something out of a movie_ ,” Dean quoted, reciting the man's own words to him while the guy sat shaking his head, “ _That stick was bashing the cop's skull in all by itself, like it was possessed by a ghost or something_.”

“Stop!” the junky begged, covering his ears and squeezing his blood-shot eyes shut, “Stop it, man!”

“Dickie!”

Dean, Cas, the witness – even the rent-a-cop at the door – all turned to look at Sam. Dean was at a total loss; staring at his brother with bewilderment. Why the absolute hell did Sam just shout 'Dickie'? Who or what was he yelling at? There was a strange mix of excitement and fear written on Sam's face as he glanced between Dean and whatever was out in the hall.

“Uhhh,” Sammy gulped, his foot inching out the door, “I'll – I'll be right back.”

Dean watched his little brother dash out of the room, still at a loss for words. An objection was teetering on the edge of his mouth as Sam left. He wanted to make the kid stay and help him. After all, when Sam and Dean did a case together, they did the damn case _together_. But, after staring at the vacant doorway for a second or two, Dean assumed that Sam was just going to help out the officers in the hall. Besides, Cas was still there anyway, right?

Dean took a brief moment to look back at the angel standing near the steal bars. Cas's usually blank expression was suddenly tainted with something, now; an underlying seriousness that was barely visible. And he was _still_ staring. Those blue eyes just wouldn't look away. God, why wouldn't Cas just say something? What did that damn stare mean?!

“Uh,” Dean coughed, blinking away from Cas to return his sights to the junky at the table, “Look, man. Just tell us what you really saw, okay? It doesn't matter how crazy it sounds. Trust me. We'll believe you.”

“Not 'til I get a lawyer,” he huffed, shaking his head, “I ain't gettin' locked up for somethin' I ain't done.”

Dean sighed. He stood up straight to glance around the room, trying to think of a way to make this guy talk. The rent-a-cop was even giving Dean a ' _sorry about your luck_ ' face. But Dean wasn't going to give up, dammit. He had haggled information from worse people. The man flipped open the file again and stepped toward the wall of bars. From the corner of his eye, Dean could see Cas stepping away.

“Let's run through this one more time,” Dean grumbled, eying certain parts of the story on the pages as he slowly turned back around, “In the report, you said that you -”

Dean's sentence got caught in his throat when he lifted his sight from the page. In the five seconds that he had his back turned, the entire scene had changed. The druggy and the rent-a-cop were now both laying face down on the floor; eyes closed and heads turned away. The door that had been open a second ago was closed now, and the chair that the witness had been sitting in was now shoved up under the handle, barring it shut.

And Cas was standing in the middle of the room... holding a pair of metal hand cuffs.

Dean's heart instantly began to pound as he looked up and down the length of the solid angel before meeting Cas's eyes. The blue oceans were full of raw, unrelenting power, boring into Dean like a hunter staring down its prey. Why did Cas knock those poor guys out? Why did he bar the door shut? Why was the angel eying down Dean like he was a fresh piece of meat? These questions seemed to answer themselves when he glanced back down to see the cuffs shining in Cas's hand.

“C – Cas?” Dean asked, the folder of papers slipping from his loose grasp.

There was a blur of tan fabric – the same shade of Cas's trench coat – that blinded Dean momentarily. Then, he suddenly found himself cuffed to the wall of bars at his back. Dean blinked repeatedly, hearing the blood pounding in his own ears as he tried to focus on what had just happened. Cas was standing in front of him now, still not blinking or saying a word, but Dean's hands were cuffed over his head to a bar directly behind him. Actual fear was pumping through the man's veins as he stared at Cas in front of him. His insides were quivering with terror. Why was Cas doing this?!

“Cas?” Dean gulped, his racing heart causing his voice to vibrate, “Wh – what the hell are you doing?!”

The angel didn't answer Dean's question. Instead, he reached out and began to undo the belt buckle on Dean's waist. A strange noise escaped the man's throat as he looked down to watch Cas opening his pants. The sudden shock of it all made Dean forget that he was terribly horny. But his lust had snapped back with acute potency, demanding his body to guide all of his quickening blood right toward his crotch.

Once Dean's pants were open, Cas tugged his black underwear down enough to expose his soft dick. Dean held in a whimper as he looked away from Cas's unnerving eyes, down to his own organ. The angel gathered his fingers around Dean's soft cock and gripped it tightly in his fist. But his hand didn't move. Holy shit, everything in Dean's body wanted that fist to move; to tug just a little bit. The man raised his eyes back to Cas's, wondering why the hell he wouldn't stroke it. It was then that Cas spoke. It was the first word he said all day and it came out of his tense mouth like a threatening rumble of thunder...

“Thrust.”

Dean blinked at Cas's demand, trying to comprehend what he just heard. Thrust? What did 'thrust' mean? Did Cas really expect him to hump the angel's hand while his own damn hands were cuffed over his head?! Cas's fingers were so warm and tight around his growing cock, Dean struggled to keep his thoughts together. He searched Cas's blue eyes, hoping to see an answer hidden there somewhere. God, he looked so damn serious. And... _offended_. It was the same way he looked the night before, when he said -

_You do not believe I could be dominant, Dean?_

It suddenly hit Dean like a Mac truck. _That's_ why Cas hadn't talked all day. _That's_ why Cas was doing all this; knocking people out and cuffing Dean to the wall. He was proving just how dominant he could be – giving Dean a stern reminder of 'who's the _angel_ and who's the _human'_ , in their relationship. Another whimper threatened to escape Dean's lips at the realization. Aw, hell. Dean probably only made things worse a moment ago in the elevator. Did Cas take all that grinding as an invitation?

“Cas,” he breathed again, “I – I didn't mean -”

“You don't have much time, Dean,” Cas warned, his deep voice quaking all the way to Dean's dick.

Another grunt fell out of Dean's mouth. Oh, shit. Cas was right. Sooner or later, someone was going to walk passed the room and wonder why the door was closed, or worse – Sam might try to kick it in. Dean glanced back down at his hard cock protruding from Cas's tight hand. There was no point in trying to fight this. Dean didn't stand a chance against Cas's unwavering will power. Besides, his cock was already rock hard and beginning to throb in the angel's hand, anyway...

After a second of panting and glancing at the unconscious bodies on the floor, Dean forced himself to obey Cas's command. He slowly began to rock his hips back and forth, sliding his dick through the angel's tight fingers. Cas was a stone in front of him; his clenched fist unmoving and his eyes still boring into Dean. Shit, those blue eyes were so damn intense. Almost _hypnotic_.

Dean moved a little faster, thrusting a bit harder through Cas's circled fingers. The cuffs over Dean's head were starting to clink against the bar with his movement. The man held on tightly to the metal around his wrists, finding it difficult to look anywhere but into Cas's sapphire stare. God, Dean loved looking at the angel while he got off; seeing those threaded irises glowing with raw power. As much as he knew it was wrong to do something like this in a damn police station, Dean couldn't deny that it was as sexy as hell.

“Argh,” Dean panted, rocking even harder into the angel's hand, “Ah!”

The quiet _clink_ , _clink_ , _clink_ , of the metal cuffs accompanied the sound of Dean's heavy breath while he ran his cock repeatedly into Cas's hand. He could feel the pleasure trying to mount; all his muscles tensing up for the big finale. Geez, this was so overwhelming. It was like being inside one of his own wet dreams; having Cas dominate him like this. If he could just get a little closer to him...

While Dean's drooling dick penetrated the angel's hand, he craned his neck out toward Cas's face, hoping to kiss him. But the closer Dean's lips came to Cas's, the more the angel tilted his head away. An irritated grunt mixed in with Dean's panting as he studied Cas's face. Why wouldn't he let him kiss him? Maybe the angel was just too wrapped up in watching Dean's reactions that he wasn't paying attention. Dean thrust harder against Cas's fist, groaning a little before forming words.

“Cas,” he huffed, stretching his neck as far as he could, “ _Lemme kiss you, dammit!_ ”

The angel blinked his vibrant blue eyes, seeming to realize that he had been lost in watching Dean hump his hand. After hearing Dean's words, Cas slowly leaned forward to offer his mouth for the taking. A grateful moan escaped Dean's dry throat as he finally plunged his lips to Cas's. His hips rocked faster on their own, thrusting his swollen cock with eager force. Holy shit, he was _so close,_ now. _Tasting_ and _smelling_ and _feeling_ Cas all around him was all he needed to get there.

“Ahh!” Dean cried, his voice echoing inside Cas's open mouth, “ _Cas_! Y – yes! Son of a bitch!”

Orgasm ascended upon Dean as a wave of pleasure, making him quiver like a child as semen shot out of his dick. For several seconds, Dean forgot that he was even in a police station with his hands cuffed over his head. He had no concept of time or space. He was literally a bundle of trembling nerve-endings, only held together by the strong gasp of a blue-eyed angel...

Dean struggled to stand when the pleasure slowly faded away. He tried to catch his breath as he leaned back against the bars and held onto the cuffs to remain on his feet. He tried to focus his blurry vision on Cas's face. Was the angel satisfied, now? Was he pleased to see Dean shuddering in his hand, like this?

Cas slowly slid his fist from Dean's dick, giving it a nice long tug on the way off. Dean twitched a little at the movement, extremely sensitive to touch. He watched the angel raise his hand up to inspect it; eying the shiny white come oozing across his fingers, like an artist admiring their own work. Cas's sapphire eyes looked up to capture Dean's stare again – as he let his tongue fall out of his mouth to lick along his own index finger. Dean gulped at the sight, secretly aroused. He knew from personal experience that come tasted nasty... but watching Cas lick it off his own fingers? Just seeing the angel lap up the white fluid made Dean want to go again...

There was a knock at the door.

Before Dean had time to panic, Cas was reaching over his head. With a sharp tug, the angel broke the cuffs from Dean's hands. As soon as he was free, Dean instantly pulled his pants back up to buckle them. He was _not_ gonna get caught with his pants down in public. Not today. In the meantime, Cas was flashing around the room; waking up the guys on the floor and moving the chair back in order. He even picked up the folder from the floor and put it in Dean's hands before flying to the door. The angel gave Dean a slow nod, as if saying ' _I hope you're ready_ ,' before turning the door open.

The men on the floor were just sitting up when Sam came back in. The kid was soaked from head to toe; obviously, from going outside in the rain. He looked around for a moment and raised a questioning eyebrow at the guys on the floor before eying Dean. Hell, _every_ eye in the room seemed to be on Dean all of the sudden. The man cleared his throat, trying to find something to say.

“Er... What?”

It was all he could come up with. For God's sake, he just had an awesome orgasm seconds earlier. What else was he supposed to say?

“I – I knew it!” the junky on the floor suddenly shouted, eyes bugging out, “I knew this place was haunted!”

In a rush of fear, the witness seemed to jump to his feet before darting out of the room. The rent-a-cop instantly jumped up to chase him, patting his belt and searching for his cuffs as he went. Aw, great. There went the biggest lead on the case... It left Dean, Cas, and Sam to all stand there and look at each other. Dean was still a bit dazed but he could see that weird look on Sam's face, that subtle happiness he tried to keep hidden. What had made Sam go from 'bitch mode' to 'giggly four-year-old' in less than a few minutes?

“What?” Dean asked, “You happy that the guy's gone or something? How are we gonna finish the case, Sam?”

Sam coughed a bit and shook his wet head.

“Actually, uh,” he paused to smile a little, “someone's already taken care of it.”

Dean shared a look of confusion with Cas. What the hell was Sam talking about? Who would get rid of a vengeful ghost if not them? Sam glanced between them and appeared to see their utter loss for words.

“Let's just go get lunch,” he suddenly grumbled, turning on his heel to start back out of the room, “I'll explain it there.”

Dean took a deep breath, still trying to get a hold on his thoughts. Cas looked irritatingly smug; blue eyes beaming with pride and mouth twitching with a smile. It was a good look on him, Dean had to admit, but it was still teasing as hell. The man reached out to tug on the soft sleeve of the angel's trench coat as he followed in his little brother's gigantic footsteps.

“You and I need to talk,” Dean whispered, pulling Cas along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first wrote this story - I say that a lot on here, don't I? - The "handcuff/jail" scene was actually the first thing that came to mind. I really wanted to have Cas render Dean completely vulnerable in public and curtly remind him of how dominant angels can be. Because, as we all know, Castiel is a very dominant warrior who shows no mercy. Especially in the bedroom. ;) I really hope you guys are all enjoying the story so far! And thank you so much for reading the Sabriel version as well! I'm glad you all appreciate the split POVs as much as I do! :) The next chapter will be out soon! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Cas took his sweet time getting out of the car to join Dean in the parking lot. The angel was obviously still proud of the stunt he just pulled in the police station; still wearing that smug expression of triumph, like he just gambled his way to a million bucks. The arrogance was practically twinkling in his blue eyes. Cas eventually swept to follow Dean with his hands stuffed in his pockets and smirk dancing on his pink lips. Dean shook his head in disbelief. Since when did Cas become so high and mighty? And since when did he have a thing for 'doing the do' in public places?

“I _cannot_ believe you just did that,” Dean grumbled to Cas in an almost-whisper.

Sam stepped around the hood of the Impala and led the way toward the entrance of the diner, where they had just arrived. Dean knew just from the sheer amount of cars that filled the parking lot that this place was going to be packed full of people. Of course, Dean had recently come to realization that he didn't care what other people thought of his and Cas's relationship. He didn't give a rat's ass if people saw them holding hands or whispering sweet nothings. It was none of their damn business anyway.

But this was different. Because this was about _fantasies_. This was about the kinky, private stuff Dean always tried to keep hidden in the closet along with all of his skeletons. And he did _not_ want anyone to know about it... Anyone but _Cas_ , that is.

On the sidewalk, the angel stepped close – close enough that Dean could smell his sweet breath – before speaking his low reply as they walked in stride.

“I do not understand your anger, Dean,” he whispered, voice deep enough to reach the depths of the ocean, “There is no need for you to be upset with me. If anything, I feel you owe me a bit of gratitude.”

Dean briefly halted his steps, taking the time to stop and make sure Cas could see the look of utter shock written on his face.

“ _What?!_ ” Dean hissed, “You want me to _thank you,_ for making me hump my way to an orgasm in the middle of a damn police station?!”

“No,” Cas breathed, his blue eyes practically piercing Dean's soul, “You should thank me for bridging the gap between fantasy and reality for you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed, feeling his tense Adam's apple rise and fall with a sharp thud. He was caught in Cas's stare like a fly in a spiderweb. God, Cas was so sexy when he talked like that; when he spoke with total boldness and guarantee. And his words couldn't be more true. The angel did make one of Dean's wet dreams come to life, pretty much...

The sudden jingle of the bell on the diner door reminded Dean that life was still taking place around him. Sam was walking inside in front of them, not pausing for anyone to catch up. Dean had to rip himself from Cas's stare in order to follow his little brother into the loud diner. Cas was at Dean's side when he entered the room, still observing Dean the same way he had all day, like Dean was a painting rather than a man.

“You are such a difficult creature to understand,” the angel huffed under his breath, probably to himself, as he shook his head.

“ _I'm_ the difficult creature?” Dean instantly whispered back, just loud enough for Cas to hear over the loud diner, “ _You're_ the one who didn't say a single damn word all morning, _Honey_!”

“Would you two shut up and help me find a table?”

Dean spun forward at the sound of his little brother's gruff tone of aggravation. Whatever happiness that seemed to have come over Sam at the police station was gone now. He was back to acting like a whiny teenager for some reason. Dean took a deep breath and forced himself to scan the room for an open table. He hated arguing with Cas. It made him feel physically sick, like there was hot tar bubbling in his stomach. They needed to be fighting _for_ sex, not _against_ it.

“There is an open table in the corner,” Cas spoke over the crowd.

Dean turned his head to follow the angel's pointing finger. Just passed a table that housed an elderly couple, there was an open booth. It was shining, as if someone had just wiped it down. Sam was walking toward it instantly, still not waiting for anyone to catch up with him. Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes as he followed his little brother. Everyone was acting so damn weird today; giving him whiplash with all the sudden mood swings. Why couldn't Sam just stay happy? Why couldn't Cas just act like a normal person?

Dean gestured for the angel to slide into the booth first as Sam sat on the opposite side. Once Cas was seated, Dean slid in next to him, eying the large blue orbs of his eyes. The angel looked sort of disappointed now, like someone had just stomped all over his prideful buzz. Aw, hell. It made Dean feel like shit to see Cas so broken up. The tar in his stomach grew thicker.

“Cas,” Dean leaned over to whisper as he reached for a paper menu at the end of the table, “Please don't get all moody over this.”

The angel turned to face the man, his vibrant blue eyes wide and unnervingly passionate.

“I was only trying to fulfill your fantasy, Dean,” Cas attempted to explain.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean sighed, forcing his sight away from Cas and down at the menu, “but fantasies are meant to stay in the bedroom, man -”

“Dude, I can hear you!”

Dean's head snapped forward at the sound of Sam's sudden outburst. The kid was sitting and glaring between Cas and Dean, holding a menu in his tight grasp. A small bit of embarrassment came over Dean, but a much large wave of bitterness quickly took over. Just because Sam was pissed off about something didn't mean he had to take it out on everyone else. What the hell was he so mad about, anyway?

“Who shoved the stick back up _your_ ass, Sam?” Dean asked, genuinely curious.

Sam's eyes widened the tiniest bit at Dean's question, like he was actually imagining something being shoved up his ass. But the younger brother looked back down at his menu again.

“Just – just order something,” Sam grumbled.

“Sure, Mr. Grand Poobah,” Dean spat, annoyed with his little brother's bitchy tone, “I'll do that. Just as soon as you get a waitress over here.”

Sam and Dean stared each other down for a moment, both clinching their jaws and narrowing their eyes. If Sammy was going to flip on the bitch-switch, Dean was more than happy to contribute. The older brother won the staring contest as Sam finally looked away to glance around the room. Dean took a deep breath as he looked back down at his menu. God, the words all looked the same for some reason. But he could smell the savory sizzle of a burger nearby, so it was bound to be written on the menu somewhere.

“Dean.”

The man turned his head to face Cas again. The angel was sitting a bit closer now, close enough for the sides of their warm legs to press together. And Cas's expression had lightened up a little, too. Signature curiosity had returned to his eyes.

“Yeah?” Dean breathed, struck by the intensity of his stare.

“None of your erotic dreams ever take place inside a bedroom,” the angel whispered, sounding confused, “They always appear take place in public areas -”

“Shhh!” Dean hissed, feeling the heat on his own face as he looked around defensively, “I don't wanna talk about that shit _here_.”

“Well, well. Aren't _you_ a tall glass of lemon-aid...”

Dean snapped his head forward at the sound of a new voice. Sam had apparently stopped a waitress by the table because he had a hold of her arm and she looked like she was in mid-step. She was a tall blonde with an okay rack and golden eyes. And the chick was wearing a completely pink outfit; pink shirt, pink skirt, pink lipstick... She was even chewing noisily on a piece of pink bubble gum. Her name tag had Gabriella written on it. Of course, Dean didn't particularly care what she looked like. It was just an average waitress to him.

But _Sam_ , on the other hand, had turned as pale as a newborn seal.

Sammy looked absolutely shocked by her appearance; eyes and mouth blown wide open. What was wrong with him? Had he just fallen in love at first sight? Dean rolled his eyes before glancing at Cas. He was hoping the angel would be just as confused by Sam's weird behavior... but Cas was staring at the waitress, too. He was blinking at her slowly, like he was trying to read her soul or something.

And Dean hated it.

“Miss,” Dean said quickly, trying to break everyone's stare away from the girl, “Can I get a cheeseburger? And please, for the love of God, tell me this place serves beer.”

Dean needed alcohol to deal with today's emotional roller coaster. And stat. He was grateful to see that Cas's eyes had dropped away from the waitress. They were back on Dean, now. Where they ought to be.

“We sure do, short-stack,” the girl answered, snapping her gum at him, “You got some ID?”

Dean blinked at her strangely. Short-stack? Why the hell did she call him short-stack? The man rolled his eyes, figuring that the chick might be a total bitch, but retrieved his fake ID badge.

“Whoa! FBI? That's awesome!” the girl gasped, fanning her face as she turned back to Sam, “I bet _you're_ FBI, too. Huh, cutie-pie?”

Sam looked like a deer in the headlights, mouth still hanging open like a dumbass. Was he aware that the waitress was flirting with him? Or was he too preoccupied with staring at her low-cut t-shirt to comprehend that she just asked him a question? When Sammy glanced back at Dean, Dean nodded towards the girl encouragingly, trying to get him to make a move. Hell, getting Sam laid might be the answer to the kid's mood swing problem.

“Uhhh,” Sam forced out, feeling terribly lost, “Yeah...?”

The girl giggled as she carelessly tossed Dean's ID on the table at him. Dean shot her a half glare as he slid back into his pocket.

“Well, then! Can't keep the feds waiting now, can we? I'll be right back with your drinks, gentlemen,” the girl hummed, pausing to caress Sam's arm, “Don't you go disappearing on me, Tarzan.”

The waitress finally bounced away with Sam's eyes following her. Dean shook his head a bit as he shoved the paper menu back down the table. Geez, Sam looked so confused for some reason. Had it been so long since he flirted with anyone that he forgot what it felt like? The chilling thought made Dean look at Cas again.

The angel was staring at his lap with his head down, appearing to be lost in thought. Under the table, Dean reached over and took his hand, curling his fingers tightly around Cas's. The action caused the angel's blue eyes to wander back up to Dean's face. It was so nice to be able to do this; to touch someone whenever the mood struck and have them be just as excited to touch you back. And Dean wanted Sam to have it too, even if it _was_ with some bitchy waitress.

“She's totally got it in for you, dude,” Dean informed his little brother.

“She?” Sam repeated, blinking.

Dean could feel his eyebrows sliding together. Was Sam feeling okay?

“The girl, Sam. The waitress,” Dean clarified, “Are you blind? She was flirting with you hardcore.”

Sam tilted his blank stare away again, seeming completely out of it. Dean gave up on trying to talk to him. That waitress had put a spell on him or something because he was acting almost stoned. Instead, Dean balled his hand around Cas's, shoving his fingertips deeper into the angel's palm. Now that the waitress was gone, Cas had gone back to looking confused... and a bit remorseful. The two of them eyed each other again and it made Dean realize that the sunlight from the window made Cas's blue irises look holographic.

“Did – did you not enjoy the pleasure I gave you, Dean?” Cas started whispering again, “Did you not enjoy having me dominate you in the same manner you desire in your subconscious fantasies?”

Again, Dean could feel his face radiating heat at Cas's words. God, why did he want to talk about this now? Cas's soft thumb was gently rubbing the back of Dean's hand under the table, caressing it soothingly, like a mother would calm a distressed child.

“I did,” Dean admitted, still keeping his voice as low as he could make it while remaining audible, “Hell, I always do. But shit like that needs to stay in private, Cas. What if someone had walked in on us?”

“Impossible,” The angel stated, “I wouldn't have allowed it.”

Dean swallowed harshly, feeling a flicker of arousal streak toward his crotch at the sound of utter confidence in Cas's voice.

“O – okay, but, hypothetically, if some other angel would have popped in on us -”

“What other angel, Dean?” Cas interrupted.

“Here you go, agents.”

Dean jumped a little at the waitress's loud tone. She was back at the table again – in all her bitchy, pink glory – sitting a few bottles of beer on the table. Dean briefly let go of Cas's warm hand to open one of the bottles and take a gigantic swig. Shit, that tasted good. Almost as good as it felt to kiss Cas. _Almost_. Under the table, he reclaimed the angel's hand again.

“A pound of meat for the pit bull,” the waitress grumbled, slapping a cheeseburger plate in front of Dean.

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow at the hateful girl. What the hell was her problem? Had Dean done something to her in a past life or something? She was so damn rude to everyone – except Sam. Her smile was genuine as she delicately placed a plate in front of him.

“And for _you_ , my handsome man,” She hummed, leaning down to get right up in the kid's face, “Today's special.”

Sam and the waitress stared at each other for a moment, which made Dean uncomfortable. Now he could understand why it made Sam so upset when he and Cas did stuff like that. The man glanced at the angel beside him again, wondering if Cas could feel the discomfort, too. But the dude was staring at the waitress again, with his eyes narrowed and nose slightly scrunched. Dean glanced between the angel and the waitress, wondering why Cas was eying the girl in pink.

“Th – thank you,” Sam barely spoke.

The waitress blew a bubble with her gum, which grew to a large enough size to pop against Sam's nose, before replying.

“You're welcome, sweetheart,” she hummed back.

Dean was thankful when the pink waitress stood up straight and began to bounce away. He didn't like the fact that both Sam and Cas were staring at her. More specifically _Cas_. Dean had never been a jealous man when it came to relationships – but holy shit, he sure was now. Angered envy was practically glowing from his whole body, watching Cas's precious blue eyes scrutinizing the girl as she left.

“That person seems very familiar to me, Dean,” the angel whispered.

Wow. Hearing that didn't lighten the jealous rage at all. Dean tugged at Cas's hand under the table, trying to recapture the angel's attention. It worked, making Cas return those perfect eyes back on him. But before Dean could ask Cas what he was talking about, Sam jostled the table. The younger Winchester was getting up from the table and stumbling away, shoving passed people that crowded his path.

“Sam?” Dean called, wondering where he was going, “Sammy?”

The kid didn't stop. He was on a mission, not pausing to even give Dean a reply. Dean let him go, though. Maybe Sam was going to the back to complain about his meal. Because the only thing sitting on the plate in front of Sam's seat was a single peach. That was it. No sandwich, no soup, no rabbit food. Just a peach. Was that some kind of secret waitress code for something?

“Dean.”

The solemn tone of Cas's voice made Dean instantly spin back around. The angel's hand lay limp in Dean's grasp and his head was tilted down. He looked remorseful again, eying the table with regret tainted in his expression.

“I'm sorry,” he breathed, sounding so apologetic, “It was not my intention to upset you. I just want to make you happy.”

Dean tried to swallow the sting in his throat. He suddenly felt like a total asshole, watching Cas sit there in silence like a reprimanded child. The guy always did everything he could for Dean without even being asked. Cas had such a good heart; so full of compassion and altruism. Even though he didn't fully understand the human aspect of sexual fantasies, Cas was willing to give it a try... just to make Dean happy...

There was a small smile on Dean's face as he leaned close to Cas. He planted his lips firmly on the far edge of the angel's cheekbone while giving his hand a good squeeze under the table. It felt like there was no way Dean could love the angelic bastard more than he did right now. His heart felt swollen behind his ribs as he brought his mouth to Cas's ear to whisper.

“As long as your amazing ass stays with me, I'll always be happy, Cas,” he breathed, the angel's soft hair tickling Dean's lips as he spoke.

The look on Cas's face was blissful and meaningful when Dean pulled back to see him. The angel seemed to eye the man lovingly, as if Dean had just softly recited an entire Shakespeare play in his ear. With a sudden lurch, Cas joined their mouths together and gently parted their lips. Dean's first instinct was to look around and see if anyone was watching – But he stopped himself. He forced his eyes to close and enjoy the moment instead. Because it wasn't anyone else's business. If some old man or punk kid wanted to complain about it, they could go right ahead. Dean wasn't going to push Cas away for anything. Their kiss lasted a good minute or so before the angel pulled back. His hand was tight around Dean's again and his blue eyes were back to being full of excitement.

“Then, I'll _never_ leave you, Dean,” he replied, his heated breath blowing against Dean's wet mouth.

“Good,” Dean whispered back, a smirk spreading on his lips, “And thanks for... You know... That amazing hand job in the police station. That's one fantasy I can cross off the list.”

Cas's eyes seemed to light up a bit at Dean's words.

“Are there any more fantasies that I can help you fulfill, Dean?” the angel asked, appearing ready to assist at the drop of a hat.

Dean gulped. He had to admit that it was pretty damn good, having Cas boss him around in the police station. But something new had crossed his mind while the waitress had been at the table. Something had reminded him of one of his most intimate secrets. One that he hadn't told a single soul about. One that was still stowed away in the back of the closet next to those skeletons. One that was brought to mind every time he saw a specific color...

Pink.

Just as Dean opened his mouth to reply to Cas's question, he heard the baited breath of his brother. Sam was walking back to the table and he looked a little disheveled and out of breath. Had someone ruffed him up in the kitchen or something? Sammy looked almost dazed.

“Uhh,” the kid began, straightening out his words, “I – I got us a hotel room tonight.”

Dean blinked, feeling slightly concerned for Sam's well-being. Was he okay? Was he still in his right mind?

“Hotel?” Dean asked, confused, “What are you talking about, Sam? Where did you go just now?”

Sam was jittery and nervous, reaching out to tug on Dean's jacket sleeve like a little kid wanting its parent to follow. He was in a hurry all of the sudden, acting as though he had to go take a piss or something.

“Let's go,” he rushed, “The White Swan Hotel. Come on, let's go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Yep. Sam was still acting weird. Nothing had changed in his brief absence from the table. He was still trapped between pissy and energetic, pulling Dean out of the seat. At least Cas was all sorted out, now. Dean pulled the angel along as he slid out of the booth. They were still holding hands as Dean followed Sam's dust trail toward the door.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean mumbled to the angel as the strode through the door together, “I do have more fantasies.”

* * *

Castiel walked silently along-side the Winchester brothers as the three of them made their way down a beautiful hotel hallway. Sam was eying the room numbers on each door, searching for a specific one. Dean was glancing around at all the lovely décor, seeming in awe of the hotel's grandness.

“You know,” Dean mused, turning toward his brother, “I distinctly remember you saying that we only had a hundred bucks to our names. So, how the hell did you afford a two bedroom suite in a place like this, Sammy?”

Castiel was curious to hear the answer to this question as well. He wasn't accustomed to seeing the Winchesters staying in such a nice place. They tended to spend their money on more rational and necessary things, like food, weapons, and ammo. It took Sam a moment to reply to his older brother.

“Uh, well... A friend lent me some money,” he answered, not meeting Dean's eyes.

Castiel shared a brief look of suspicion with Dean. Which friend could Sam possibly be speaking of?

“A friend, huh? What, do you have Bill Gates on speed dial or something?” Dean pause to look at his card and laugh, “Ha, look at that. Room sixty-nine.”

The angel didn't understand why Dean found this number to be humorous. Perhaps it was an odd combination of nine and six? But he dismissed the thought as it appeared that they had reached their destination. Both Dean and Sam's eyes darted from room 69a to 69b, presumably deciding which room belonged to whom. Castiel, too, looked at the numbers. He was still trying to identify what it was about the number that Dean found so funny.

“Well, Sammy,” Dean shrugged, stepping toward room 69b, “You have fun tonight. Order some porn or something. And hey, if you get too hard up for company, you could always call that waitress from the diner.”

The mention of the waitress instantly brought Castiel back to his earlier thoughts about her. She had seemed so familiar; like someone he knew every well. There was some skeptical aura around her that matched someone else he knew. Perhaps one of his own kin. Had she been blessed with celestial gifts?

“Sure,” Sam said, pulling the angel away from his thoughts, “Goodnight, Dean.”

“'Night, Sam,” Dean repeated.

The green-eyed man slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and opened the door to room 69b. Castiel stepped to follow Dean into their own room but paused in the wooden frame to turn and look at Sam. The angel couldn't mistake that Sam seemed to have a fondness of the waitress at the diner. Was the younger Winchester aware of the celestial aura she possessed? It had appeared that he was almost glad to see her, like he _knew_ her. Was there something that Castiel was missing?

After giving a slight wave to Sam, Cas inched the rest of the way into the room and shut the door. He tried to let go of the sudden worry that had come over him. Sam was an intelligent man, certainly able to detect a threat if one came to him, right? The angel tried his best to dismiss the notion as he turned to walk the rest of the way into the room. There was an enormous bed, bigger than any that the Winchesters had slept in before, jutting from the wall. A door was slightly ajar on the right side of it, casting a thin line of light onto the floor.

“Cas,” Dean called from beyond the door, presumably the bathroom, “I don't want Sam to hear us tonight, so do you think you can sound proof that wall or something? It's paper thin.”

Castiel gulped at Dean's request. _Hear_ them? Did that mean Dean was planning on making _noise_ ? Was he referring to _moaning_ ? And _whining_ ? And _crying out_? The thought made a shiver echo all the way down Cas's spine.

The angel did as he was asked, quickly striding to the wall to lay a hand flat against the cool surface. He was about to use a bit of his grace to 'sound proof' the structure as Dean had specified, but he found that it wasn't possible – Because it had already been done. The angel took a step back to stare at the wall with confusion. How was it possible for this wall to have already been touched my celestial grace? Had another angel been tampering with their room? If so, which one?

“Cas.”

Castiel spun around at the sound of Dean's voice. The man was now standing nearly naked by the luxurious bed, wearing a smug grin. The angel's eyes instantly drank in the entire sight of Dean's body; all the bare tan skin and outlined muscles. He adored looking at Dean's body no matter how many times he had witnessed it before. But he had never before observed Dean wearing such a feminine piece of clothing. The man had on a pair of pink satin underwear. The soft, rosy fabric seemed to hug his waist and cradle the bulge of his organ perfectly, revealing the curves of his scrotum... and growing shaft...

Castiel's eyes slowly wandered back up to Dean's face where a red tint was blossoming on his cheeks.

“I don't know about you,” Dean said, sliding his fingers along the top of his satin underwear, “but that number on the door gives me an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe. And so, the legend of Dean's Pink Panties continues. ;) If you're wondering about that bitchy waitress, feel free to shoot over to "Forbidden Fruit" and see Sam's POV. ;D Fun Fact: The original version of this story actually mentions Donald Trump instead of Bill Gates. But after learning so much about our *ahem* "President" (I shudder to write that) changed it. Because that orange dildo has no right to be in any fic of mine. ;) Lots of fun things will be taking place in room 69b for Dean and Cas. ;D Thank you guys so much for reading and commenting on this fic! I'm so glad you like it! :D The next smut-filled chapter will be out soon! <3


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel found that he could not keep his eyes still. They were moving all over Dean's body, soaking in the sight of the man's exposed torso and strange pink clothing as he stalked forward. Only in dens of iniquity did Castiel think such undergarments were worn. The angel had certainly never pictured _Dean_ wearing this kind of clothing; so feminine, delicate, and accentuating of his manhood. The fabric was tightly drawn over his genitals, cupping the generous bulge with firm elasticity. Each step Dean took made the large pink protrusion shift from side to side. The mere sight caused Castiel's steady heartbeat to elevate. Why was Dean wearing this? And why was it so arousing to behold?

The man was smirking when he finally closed the distance between them. Their lips met in a firm collision, making the angel's eyes flutter briefly shut. Ah, the taste of Dean's kiss could never dull. The sensation took Castiel by surprise every time. Just as Dean's hands begin to tug at his trench coat, Cas felt he had to voice the questions coursing through his mind.

“Dean,” he breathed, tilting his head down to look at the lovely pink fabric again, “What are you wearing?”

“You like it?” Dean hummed back, still sliding the coat down Castiel's arms with slow seduction, “I've held onto this thing since I was nineteen,” a brief seriousness crossed his face, “Don't tell Sam.”

The coat finally slipped from the angel's arms and gathered into a heap on the floor with a quiet thud. Dean's hands were still carefully removing Castiel's clothes as the angel attempted to ask more questions.

“Wh – where did you acquire such a piece of clothing?” the angel breathed.

The other jacket slid from Castiel's arms to join the trench coat on the floor. Dean began to carefully unbutton the white shirt as he stared at Cas with lustful intensity. Still, the angel had difficulty trying to focus his sight on a single part of Dean. The blue eyes were constantly falling down to roam over Dean's body before flashing back up to meet his addicting stare.

“From a girl,” the man answered, gently pulling the shirt out from Castiel's waist band, “Rhonda something. She made me try them on and... I liked it. Hell, I liked it so much I _kept_ the damn thing. I've never told anyone about this, Cas. But I figured you ought to know.”

Castiel was left standing topless once Dean delicately tugged away the blue tie from around the angel's neck. The man's emerald eyes glanced down to drink in the sight as he slid a firm hand flat across Cas's bare chest. The mere touch sent pulses of arousal to Castiel's lower half – but while his body craved the physical interaction, his mind was still demanding answers.

“Why?” the angel asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

“Because,” Dean paused to sigh and bring his eyes back to Cas's, “It's a fantasy of mine, I guess. And you're all about the fantasies, so... What do you think?”

Castiel took the time to fully look at Dean's appearance again. The man was still as lovely as ever, standing nearly naked with his bow legs jutting out, forcing the pink bulge to angle toward the right. Did it seem larger now, Dean's hidden member? Perhaps it had swollen a bit while Dean had disrobed Castiel. Perhaps the act was enough to induce the man to get an erection... Perhaps his body was _pining_ for intercourse...

“Dean, I wish to penetrate you,” Castiel blurted urgently, able to feel his own member growing at the thought.

Dean chuckled and stepped forward to press their fronts together. Another whoosh of lustful energy spiked in Castiel's vessel at the sensation. Everything in him wanted to toss Dean onto the bed and enter his warm body; to give him pleasure and _receive_ pleasure _from_ him until neither of them could form coherent thoughts. But Dean seemed to be hesitating.

“Good,” the man muttered, the red in his cheeks deepening, “but, uh... I was really hoping to try, um...” Dean paused to roll his eyes at his own stammering, “A sixty-nine...?”

The mention of the number instantly brought the earlier curiosity back to Castiel's mind. What was it about these two digits that caused Dean to laugh and turn bashful? Was it the strange combination of six and nine that Dean found humorous? Was he referring to a specific number of lustful acts they could perform, like a sexual gauntlet? Castiel yearned to know why this number was so important.

“I do not understand, Dean,” the angel sighed, “What is so appealing about the number sixty-nine?”

Another smile flashed on Dean's moist lips.

“You know, a _sixty-nine_ ,” the man repeated, his freckled face as red as a beet, “I can be the six, you can be the nine, you know? Like, the way they look? That's how we can have sex.”

Castiel blinked. Even though Dean was attempting to explain, the angel was still not able to draw a conclusion on the subject.

“I cannot be a number, Dean,” Castiel stated, confused by the assumption, “and neither can you. And even if we could, numbers are incapable of engaging in intercourse. They are only figures that humans use to display an amount -”

“No,” Dean interrupted, rolling his eyes again, “I'm not talking about literal numbers here, Professor Wingspan. I'm talking about the way they look. Think about it. A _six_ and a _nine_.”

Castiel did as Dean suggested and imagined the number in his mind. There was nothing at all striking about the formation. Was there supposed to be some underlying sexual reference hidden in the number? Because, if so, Castiel was unable to pick it out.

“I – I still do not understand, Dean,” the angel admitted quietly.

With a gruff sigh, Dean reached out and took Castiel by the arm. The man began to cart the angel toward the door of their suite, striding heavily with impatience. Cas gulped at the sight of Dean's backside as they walked. There wasn't enough pink fabric to spread over all of the man's cheeks, forcing the underwear to ride up the center of his buttocks. The sight of the round cheeks jiggling with each step – causing the satin fabric to become lodged tightly between them – made Castiel remember that his erection was quickly growing inside his pants.

Dean opened the door with a firm yank, displaying both the decorated hallway and the front of the wooden door. The gold-plated 69b was still positioned in the middle of the door facing. Dean let go of Castiel's arm to gesture toward the number.

“See the six and nine?” he asked.

Castiel gave a nod.

“Now, imagine that his part is _your_ head and this part is _my_ head,” the man instructed, pointing to the circular parts of the figures, “and these are our bodies. See how we'd be laying?”

All at once, Castiel felt he knew the answer. His eyes widened as he turned to look at Dean. It was obviously a sexual position, characterized by the visual similarity of a set of digits. Why had he not noticed it before?

“If this is how we would be laying, then,” the angel paused to glance strangely at the gold-plated 69b again, “our feet would be in each others' mouths. Is... Is that considered to be a sexually satisfying act, Dean?”

Dean groaned in annoyance at Castiel's suggestion, shaking his head and reaching up to place his palm briefly against his forehead. As he did this, a small woman slowly passed by the room. She was an elderly ethnic woman, dressed in all white and pushing a cart full of laundry down the hall. Her eyes lifted to glance at them, but by then, Dean was already shutting the door. They were back in their room, alone again in the semi-darkness.

The man suddenly took a firm hold of Castiel's arms, forcing the angel to look directly into his jade eyes. The red tint had faded from his cheeks, leaving him to appear sternly serious and obscenely libidinous.

“No, Cas. I'm gonna suck your dick,” he said flatly, his husky voice making Castiel's erection twitch, “ _while_ you're sucking mine.”

The idea caused the angel's mouth to tumble open. At last, he truly understood what a sixty-nine represented and he agreed with Dean's enthusiasm. It seemed like the perfect way for them to share pleasure – to administer it in unison. Castiel nodded, feeling his vessel aching to get started.

“Alright,” Cas breathed.

The smile returned to Dean's lips at full capacity. The man momentarily rejoined their mouths – long enough to make the hardened erection in Castiel's clothes press firmly against the fabric with hunger – before making his way toward the bed. The angel's eyes followed the lovely sight of Dean's bouncing cheeks barely contained under the pink satin as he stumbled along behind the man. Castiel paused at the edge of the bed to watch Dean crawl onto it. Oh, the sight of the tight pink bulge hanging firmly between the man's thighs was almost too much...

Dean flipped over to lay on his back and adjusted himself to appear flat on the bed. Only when he was situated did he raise to his elbows to look at Castiel again. The seductive shimmer in his eyes seemed to beckon the angel.

“Get those pants off, Mighty Mouse,” he hummed.

Castiel peeled his eyes from Dean's tempting body to look down at his own pants. It struck the angel that Dean was having fun with this. Dean was taking pleasure in arousing Castiel with inappropriate attire that flaunted his physical assets. Again, this act reminded Cas of animals in the wild; displaying their most impressive features in a seductive way to gain a mate – or, to retain the mate they had already bonded with. If this truly was the case, then Castiel certainly wanted to contribute. Dominance was Dean's favorite trait of Castiel's... Perhaps the angel could exploit it in the same manner Dean was exploiting his own body...

With this new notion swirling in his mind, Castiel raised his eyes to Dean's once more. He stared powerfully at the man as he reached for the belt on his own waist and, with a vigorous snap, the thick leather split in two. The smug smirk that had been on Dean's lips was quick to fade away. Oh yes, that look was back on the man's face again, the same he had been wearing in the police station; the vulnerable yearning that let Castiel know that he was doing his job correctly.

Pleased with Dean's aroused reaction, the angel then took his pants in each hand before shredding them down the middle. The sound of breaking fibers filled the room as Castiel tore the clothing from his body. The absence of fabric caused his erection to burst free, allowing it to jut accusingly toward Dean. The man's eyes widened the slightest bit at the sight and his hands clutched fist-fulls of the bed. Though Castiel felt the urge to smirk, he held his stern gaze for Dean. If Dean truly craved dominance, then Cas would always deliver.

Once he was completely naked, Castiel stepped cautiously to the bed. Although Dean had given a full explanation of the 'sixty-nine' position, the angel was still a bit confused by the way it was performed. Did he need to lay _beside_ Dean? On _top_ of him? Were their feet meant to be involved in someway? How would he know if he was doing it correctly? The man laid a hand against his own pink satin bulge, cupping himself as he stared along Castiel's bare body.

“Y – you waiting for an invitation or something?” he asked gruffly, his lips appearing to be dry.

Castiel gulped, glancing down to see Dean tugging on himself through his feminine underwear. The angel's erection twitched at the sight.

“I'm... unsure of how to...” Castiel mumbled, gesturing to the bed.

Dean sighed audibly again. Both of the man's hands were instantly tugging the angel down by the hips; gently turning his head toward the end of the bed and pulling his waist toward the headboard. Castiel was then straddling Dean's face, with a knee on each side of the man's head. The smooth pink bulge was suddenly the only thing in Cas's line of view, positioned just below his hovering face as he rested an elbow on either side of Dean's waist.

“There,” Dean said below, his heated breath brushing against Cas's sensitive erection, “Launch sequence activated. Ready for take off?”

Castiel blinked at Dean's strange words.

“Ready for - ?”

The angel's question came to an abrupt halt once he felt Dean's warm wet mouth slide over his hard member. The pulsing sensation of pleasure tingled up his entire spine as Dean sucked gingerly on his erection. Castiel dropped his head to look between their bodies. Though his view was upside-down the angel watched Dean mouth at his organ for a moment, utterly captivated by the pouting lips suctioned around the shaft. A tiny hum escaped Castiel's throat. The feeling was nearly indescribable.

Wanting Dean to feel the same way, Cas brought his sight back to the pink lump before him. He delicately glided a hand over the fabric, taking the time to actually feel the warm satin, before tugging it down. The man's familiar erection was exposed, stiffly pointed toward his navel. Again, Castiel imagined this body part as its own being. It rolled around against Dean's stomach in desperation, almost searching for Castiel's mouth. The angel wasted no time in giving Dean's erection what it needed. He was slave to its constant beckoning.

Pleasure was still radiating from Cas's pelvis as he slid Dean's hard shaft into his mouth. He could hear and feel the man hum against his own member as he did so, obviously enjoying the sensation. Cas began to bob his head, allowing Dean's throbbing erection to slide through his tight lips. He slathered his tongue against the head each time in order to stimulate him further. A few more muffled noises of approval came from below.

Castiel quickened his pace, nodding his head faster along Dean's shaft. The angel noticed that the man also picked up speed and began to stroke Castiel with his hand as well. Cas hummed with pleasure around Dean's organ, but the action made him wonder – Was this a competition? Was he supposed to get Dean to ejaculate first? Was this an impromptu power play that involved intercourse? Both of their mouths were full, so asking wasn't exactly possible... but perhaps it was true. And if this _was_ a game, then Castiel was determined to win.

Hoping to get Dean to finish first, the angel also brought his hand forward to increase stimulation. Castiel bobbed his head and his hand followed suit, gripping the erection in a firm grasp as his wet mouth slicked the way. Dean was beginning to groan more fiercely against Castiel's organ. It was a good sign. Perhaps Dean was getting close... The angel allowed the long muscle to shove far into his mouth with each nod, able to feel it rubbing against the back of his throat. Castiel attempted to swallow against the head as he stroked in order to simulate the feeling of natural intercourse. This action seemed to be a pivotal addition, as Dean suddenly spit out Castiel's erection.

“Ah, shit!” the man panted, his hips beginning to rock, “Oh, sh - shit... Don't stop!... Cas!”

Castiel did not stop. In fact, the angel increased all of his efforts; sucking harder and stroking faster. Saliva was rolling down Dean's thumping erection and beginning to draw wet lines across his tense scrotum. With his free hand, Castiel reached for the glistening moisture as he bobbed his head. He scooped up some of his own warm saliva with his finger before hooking an arm around Dean's leg and rubbing his wet finger around the man's tight entrance, prodding against the center as he vacuumed his mouth on Dean's drooling shaft. Dean was thrusting now, rapidly rocking down Cas's throat without discretion.

“Ah!” the man cried, his voice pitching higher as he clung to Castiel's thighs, “Son of a bitch! Gnah! Y – yeah! _Cas_!”

Warm semen was suddenly pulsing at the back of the angel's throat. Castiel allowed Dean to ejaculate, continuing to stimulate the man as he became lost inside orgasm. Quiet moans were tumbling from Dean's mouth as Castiel slowed to a stop. The angel kept swallowing against the tip of Dean's erection, trying to catch all of the fluid before it leaked out. Subconsciously, Castiel always tried to ingest Dean's finish because he felt it was the right thing to do. Allowing Dean's precious seed to fly everywhere seemed like such a terrible waste...

Once he was sure Dean was done, Castiel carefully edged off of him. The man was huffing baited breaths as he stared toward the ceiling, appearing to be in a daze. The angel smiled at the sight of Dean's intoxication. Castiel was, no doubt, the winner of this little contest. And he felt smug in his victory. He was master of this sex game. Lord of the sixty-nine.

“Cas,” Dean panted, rolling his head to the side.

“Yes, Dean?” the angel asked, sitting up to look at him properly.

The man breathed harshly for a moment before speaking.

“Where... the _hell_... did you learn... how to suck cock... like that?” Dean asked, stunned.

Castiel took a large breath of his own. Where exactly _had_ he learned to do this? Perhaps it was an extended version of his observations in the past. Of course, he had only witnessed the act one other time...

“I... learned it from _you_ , Dean,” the angel answered, “From the time you performed the act on me.”

The man blinked a few times, seeming to be trying to come to terms with this news. Did it shock him to find out that he was the one responsible for Castiel's skills? The man shakily raised to sit, still panting as sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Don't tell Sam that, either,” he requested quietly.

Castiel nodded, even though he never spoke to Sam about their relationship anyway. For a moment, Dean and Castiel glanced along each others' naked bodies, silently observing the bare skin and tussled hair. The angel could feel himself throbbing between his own legs, still in need of ejaculation. The sight of Dean's pink satin underwear around his thighs only aided his distress. Very carefully, Castiel brought his hand down to cradle the needy organ. Its desire to be touched was nearly unbearable.

Dean's hand suddenly reached out to grab the angel's. They shared a brief stare as the man tossed Castiel's hand away. There was an honest passion in Dean's emerald eyes, almost a begging look. His head was lowering before Castiel could ask what he was doing. In a swift motion, The angel's thumping erection was inside Dean's wet mouth again.

“Ah,” Cas sighed, enjoying the feeling of Dean's rough tongue against the underside of his organ, “Dean.”

The man began to bob his head again; this time, bending over on the bed. Dean's hips were jutted up in the air now, giving Castiel a perfect view of his curved muscular back and both rounded cheeks of his buttocks. The pink underwear was still hanging around his legs, wrapped around his thick thighs as he nodded in Castiel's lap. The angel couldn't help but reach out and caress the tan skin of Dean's back as the man pleasured him.

“Dean,” Cas repeated, feeling the finale approaching, “Oh... Ah!... F – faster!”

The man complied, bobbing his head with fury. Castiel was rocking his hips by now, tightening his grip on Dean's hot back. The pleasure was mounting inside the angel, causing all of his muscles to tense for end. The sight and feeling of Dean's body was rushing him toward the finish. Dean's mouth was so tight and wet, and his lips were so smooth against Cas's erection. It was obvious where Castiel had learned this skill..

The end came in a giant explosion. Castiel groaned aloud with euphoria as his organ pulsed. Dean was quick to slide his mouth from the angel's member when he ejaculated, burying his face into the bed to shield it from the white semen. The man's hand, though, continued coaxing the fluid out, skillfully tugging on the heated shaft with the perfect degree of tightness. Having Dean provide him with orgasms like this never grew old. On the contrary, the feeling only seemed to intensify more with every sexual encounter.

The angel was left in a trembling heap on the bed by the time Dean let go of him. He was still shuddering with sensitivity when the man raised his head again. Dean inspected his own sticky hand before bringing his eyes to rest on Cas's.

“That shit is gross,” he smiled, “I don't see how you do it.”

Castiel assumed Dean was referring to ingesting semen because he was still glancing down at the white fluid drizzled over his fingers. Was it the taste that made Dean shy away? Or was it simply the act of swallowing another person's finish that made him uncomfortable? Castiel carefully took Dean's wrist and tilted it, soaking in the sight of his own seed painted on Dean's palm.

“It is a beautiful act to me, Dean,” the angel attempted to explain, “Our bodies love each other almost as much as our souls do. This is their way of stating affection. This is my body's gift to yours, just like _your_ semen is your body's gift to mine.”

Dean's throat quivered as he gulped, appearing to be effected by Castiel's words. His green eyes fell to look back at the white semen on his fingers. A sincere tenderheartedness seemed to cross Dean's expression. Though he seemed a bit hesitant, Dean quickly stuck his tongue out and licked his finger – before coughing and shaking his head with disgust.

“Nope,” he said gruffly, wiping his hand on the bed, “Huh-uh. Sorry, Cas, but it still tastes like good-ol-fashioned jizz to me.”

Castiel smiled. At least Dean had attempted it.

“That's alright, Dean,” the angel said, reaching out to cup the man's face in his hand, “I'll continue to love you, either way.”

A meaningful smile appeared on Dean's pink lips. The man craned his neck to bring their mouths together once more. A surge of extra pleasure radiated through Castiel's vessel at the sensation. It was amazing how an act as simple as a kiss was enough to alter the angel's very emotions. Dean carefully pulled back to speak against Cas's lips.

“I'll keep on loving your feathery ass, too,” he sighed, his eyes turning serious, “... and on a completely unrelated noted... I'm hungry as hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiel 69s are the best. ;) We all know that Rhonda's last name is Hurley, but I think Dean called her 'Rhonda something' in this chapter because maybe he didn't want to upset Cas by bringing up a past lover. And, in this universe, Cas kind of has a thing for 'swallowing.' It's a little weird for Dean, but I hope that's not too weird for you guys. ;) Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! The next chapter will be out soon! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Dean picked up a stray piece of bacon that had fallen out of the back of his burger and tucked it back under the bun before taking another huge bite. He had forgotten just how much he loved a cheeseburger piled high with bacon. The amazing taste made him wonder – had Cas ever tasted bacon before? If not, the dude was missing out...

The two of them were sitting at the hotel table now. All it took was Dean mentioning that he was hungry and then Cas immediately flew away for a minute to retrieve this awesome burger and a bottle of beer. Dean assumed the angel had nicked it from a diner somewhere, probably a nearby restaurant. The man was glad to be eating – especially something smothered in cheese, packed with bacon, and dripping with grease – but he was secretly hoping to go another round with Cas. That glorious sixty-nine left him craving seconds...

Dean took another bite and chewed it up as he eyed the naked angel across the table. Cas had fallen back into his unbreakable, and somewhat annoying, habit of staring. The blue eyes were wide and unwaveringly fixed on Dean's face, just like they had been all damn day. But this stare was different from the others, Dean noticed. Cas didn't seem to be studying him like an art appraiser anymore. Now, the angel was staring _through_ Dean. His eyes were positioned on the man, but Cas was vacant from them; lost in his own head maybe. Was he okay? Was Dean boring him by pausing their lusty escapade to eat? The man swallowed his food before plucking a piece of bacon out of his sandwich.

“Wanna bite?” Dean asked, holding the strip of bacon toward Cas.

Of course, Dean knew Cas never ate anything. He was mostly offering it in order to wake Cas up from the daze he seemed to be stuck in. But Dean's attempt seemed to have failed, because the angel only blinked once, eyes still peering beyond the man and holding nothing in them.

“No thank you, Dean,” Cas mumbled back, lips barely moving.

Something big must have been plaguing that pretty feathered head of Cas's. Was he still trying to wrap his brain around the number sixty-nine? It looked like he was pondering the meaning of life, concentrating so hard on his thoughts that he resembled a marble statue. Dean tossed the bacon into his own mouth and shook his head a little. Dammit. He was never going to understand how Cas functioned.

Dean took a deep breath and placed the last bit of his sandwich on the table before taking a few gulps of his beer. If they were really going to go another round – which Dean was still adamantly hoping for, despite Cas's weird behavior – then, he needed to wash the taste of food out of his mouth. Because if there was one taste that Dean loved more than food, it was the sweet flavor of Cas's kiss...

“I'm gonna go brush my teeth,” Dean said to Cas, hoping to see some kind of emotion cross the angel's face.

But it didn't. The man carefully rose from the table – which his ass thanked him for, because it was starting to go numb on the wooden chair – and stepped toward the bathroom, anyway. Cas's head followed him as he went, though his blue eyes were still glossy and focused. Dean left the door open so he could keep an eye on Cas as he dug around in his duffel bag for his toothbrush and paste.

The man tried to ignore his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he began swirling the foamed bristles against his teeth. The eagerness to get laid again was festering in his lower stomach, making him scrub a little faster. Man, he felt like he could go all night long. Like he was infected with sex-charged energy. Who needed sleep when there was amazing sex to be had? Just recalling the sensation of Cas's mouth sucking on his dick gave Dean a shudder...

“Dean.”

The man's hand paused in mid-brush as he turned to look toward the bathroom door. Cas was standing there now, still unabashedly naked and staring powerfully at Dean. Of course, Dean's eyes immediately took in the whole sight of the angel's naked body again, casually trailing over Cas's dick that was just hanging out in the open. Dean forced himself to lean over and spit the foaming toothpaste out before he had time to choke on it.

“Yeah?” Dean replied, turning the water back on to rinse out his mouth.

The angel took a few steps into the bathroom, his blue eyes never leaving Dean's face. Cas looked a tiny bit more confident now, like he finally figured out how to put his thoughts into words. And Dean was glad to see it. The man was rinsing his toothbrush when Cas continued.

“I want to do something for you,” the angel said, his deep voice low and slightly echoing around the bathroom, “but it... it is not something I've attempted before. And I am unsure if I possess enough will-power to succeed.”

Dean narrowed his eyes as he flicked the remaining water from his toothbrush and tossed it into his duffel bag. So, Cas hadn't just been staring blankly at Dean. He had been arguing with himself in his head. Debating on something. The man cleared his throat.

“Okay,” he breathed, “Well, what is it?”

Cas stepped even closer in the small room. Dean couldn't help but watch the angel's dick swing around with his steps, shifting from side to side with his heavy sack. Just the sight of it seemed to turn Dean on. The man forced himself to look back up at Cas's eyes, still in disbelief that he actually _enjoyed_ the sight of another man's dick. Cas was still as serious as ever, searching Dean's face as he spoke again.

“I want to... I want to pleasure you with my celestial form,” he said, as a twinge of remorse flickered in his eyes.

Dean's entire body seemed to have felt Cas's words. He had witnessed Cas go celestial occasionally in the few years he had known him; flashing those huge wings here, carelessly smiting some bastards there... But to think about Cas doing that _during sex_ – to morph into some powerful winged being that could make Dean come with just the snap of his angelic fingers – aroused the man in a way he could barely comprehend.

“Hell yeah,” Dean breathed, already starting to feel it in his dick, “ _Hell yeah,_ Let's do it!”

“Dean,” Cas rebutted, refusing Dean's arms that reached out for him, “It's not a wise thing to do.”

“Why?” Dean asked instantly, slightly angered at being teased with the idea.

“I'm sure that you would understand what I mean when I say that I don't always have control over myself during intercourse,” the angel began.

Dean slowly nodded. Yeah, he could totally understand. It's kind of hard to think when all the blood in your body is being used to fuel your raging erection instead of your brain...

“If I were to expose my true form to the sheer ecstasy of physical pleasure while my body is so close to yours,” Cas continued, eying Dean with regret, “I'm afraid I might not be able to stop myself from bursting free of my vessel.”

Though Dean was more than turned on by the notion, and his dick was beginning to thump between his legs, he tried to get a grip on what Cas was saying.

“So, if you come all the way out of your meat-suit,” Dean gulped, “then...?”

“Dean, the sight of my true form _alone_ would render you blind,” Cas nearly whispered, eyes full of pain, “I do not wish to think of the other atrocities could befall your precious being just by exposing myself. I'm sure you remember when I first attempted to speak to you in my own voice.”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, wanting to cringe at the memory of his ears bleeding at the high pitched sound.

Cas took a deep breath. God, Dean hated to see him so upset; to see those blue eyes burdened down with such sadness. The angel reached up to cup the side of Dean's face, to which Dean pressed closer into it instantly.

“I truly wish to give you everything that you desire, Dean,” Cas whispered, as if he was thinking out loud, “but perhaps I'm incapable of doing so.”

“No,” Dean spat.

Cas's eyebrows slid together at Dean's slight outburst. A large amount of emotion had gotten lodged in Dean's chest as Cas spoke. He was done listening to the angel's tone of remorse.

“No, Cas,” Dean repeated, reaching up to clutch the angel's warm bare shoulders, “You _are_ capable. Of _anything_. I know you, man. You can ease out of that cramped meat-suit while we're banging and still not hurt me. You'll know where to draw the line. And if you're really that worried about it, I'll tell you if you're going to far.”

Cas's eyes had eased a bit, but he still looked apprehensive. Maybe he just needed a little push.

“I've got faith in you, Mighty Mouse,” Dean smiled, briefly reaching up to gently tap Cas's cheek with the side of his finger, “ _You_ should have a little faith in you, too.”

The worry finally fled Cas's ocean eyes, leaving them full of passion. The angel nodded a bit before leaning forward to press his lips to Dean's. The man's eyes fluttered shut as he enjoyed their kiss. It was a good thing that he brushed his teeth because Cas's tongue was like an impatient snake, instantly slithering inside Dean's mouth to swish around. The feeling sent jolts straight to Dean's stiffening cock. Oh, God, he couldn't wait much longer.

“Mmm,” Dean hummed, pulling away to shove Cas toward the door, “Unless you want me to come standing in this spot, I suggest we head to the bed.”

Dean was pretty sure that once Cas heard the ache in his voice, the angel took one of the man's hands and started pulling him back into the bedroom. Dean stumbled along in a flash, all too eager to get going. He was already imagining what it would be like to be pounded by Cas's holy body. Maybe Cas would start speaking in tongues when he got near the end. Would he flap his wings like a mating bird? What would he look like? Would his skin turn _chrome,_ like it did in most of Dean's dreams? The very thought made the blood drain from Dean's face and soak straight to his dick. Cas was about to make his favorite wet dream come true...

Dean's cock was curved toward the ceiling as he stepped over the discarded pink panties in the floor to get to the bed. He and Cas were kissing again; tonguing and a sliding their hands all over each others' bare bodies. The angel's skin was still a little damp with sweat from their amazing sixty-nine earlier. Dean tugged on Cas's dick a little bit as they fell back onto the bed. The angel's cock had gone soft for some reason, so Dean was trying his best to get Cas back in the game; to get him horny... and maybe a little _angry_. Because there was nothing sexier than watching Cas become a raging power-house of celestial bitchiness.

But before Dean could fully focus on getting a rise out of Cas, the man was suddenly tossed on his back. Dean blinked up at the ceiling for a second, feeling the bed bounce with his weight, before his eyes wandered to meet Cas's face. There was one distinct expression on the angel's face now, and he wore it like a true professional... Concentration. Cas was _concentrating_ on his own actions, moving with deliberate precision as he carefully took hold of Dean's legs and bent him in half. Dean swallowed harshly as he held his own legs back, feeling his breath becoming labored. On second thought, maybe it wasn't Cas's angry side that was the sexiest. Maybe it was the angel's determined resolve that turned Dean on the most; his serious blue eyes, stern expression, and decisive movements...

Dean's heart was beginning to race as he watched Cas raise a hand to his own mouth. The angel lapped his tongue against his long fingers, soaking them with spit. This act, alone, was enough to make Dean's hard cock flick around against his scrunched stomach. Oh, God, he loved watching Cas's tongue roll around like that; like it was on a mission. After Cas was satisfied with the amount of drool rolling down his own fingers, he brought them down against Dean's ass. The angel was gazing straight into Dean's eyes when he thrust the dripping digits inside.

“Uh!” Dean groaned, feeling Cas's long, wet fingers reaching far inside him.

Dean couldn't get enough of Cas's face. He loved how absolutely steadfast the guy looked; how serious those blue eyes were and how his jaw clinched just a tiny bit as he worked. The fingers were thrusting pretty hard in and out of Dean, making him involuntarily clench around them. Oh, the sensation was so unnervingly arousing, reminding Dean of how good it felt to have Cas's cock stuffed in there instead of his fingers -

“Cas,” Dean gulped, already panting, “That's – that's good. Let's do it.”

The angel's hand instantly halted, pausing with the fingertips still lodged inside the ring of Dean's muscle. The determination seemed to grow a little fiercer on Cas's face as the two of them breathed harshly toward each other. Dean wiggled his ass a little, wondering why the angel was hesitating. Cas gave a half a nod before lowering his head between Dean's legs to press their lips together again.

“If... If you begin to feel threatened in any way, Dean -”

“I trust you,” Dean interrupted, breathing heavily into Cas's open mouth, “Just do it, Cas. Please.”

Dean almost couldn't believe his own words. He was actually _begging_ for it, able to hear the desperation in his own voice. But, then again, he had literally dreamed of this scenario since before he and Cas were even official. And, God, he really hoped it would be everything he imagined...

Cas started out slow as usual, carefully maneuvering his large cock – which had hardened quite a bit since he lubed his own fingers – into Dean's tight hole. The man took easing breathes as the huge thing slid inside, familiar with the weird sensation of being filled up internally. After adjusting himself, Cas took a tight hold of Dean's legs and carefully began to thrust. Another groan escaped Dean's mouth as he felt the massive dick gliding in and out of his opening. He stared up at Cas's concentrated face as he griped the bedsheets. Just as the man started to get used to the constant friction, the lamp on the bedside table began to flicker...

Dean ripped his eyes away from Cas's to glance toward the light. The lamp was growing brighter and twitching on and off. Dean's eyebrows drew together. Was something wrong with the power? The table under the lamp seemed to be starting to quietly rattle, too. It was shaking against the wall and the wooden drawers were jiggling in the slots. Dean tightened his grip on the sheets and turned to look back up at Cas to ask if he noticed the change in the furniture too, but his voice got lost.

Because Cas was _glowing_ , now. His skin slowly began to shine in the semi-darkness. The angel's deep ocean eyes were gradually turning into bright sapphires, housing raw power as he stared down at Dean. And two giant shadows were beginning to grow behind him against the wall; two dark, feathered forms. Dean blinked repeatedly as the angel thrust a little more forcefully into his ass and Cas's glow grew brighter. Dean felt like he had fallen into one of his wet dreams. Was this really happening? Was Dean still awake?

A sudden groan tumbled out of Cas's open mouth – and the sound seemed to have been just enough to break the lamp. Dean heard the light bulb burst underneath the lampshade nearby and the light went out. But the room was still lit with Cas's body. He was glowing brightly as he moved, causing the shadows behind him to shift with his motions. Dean whimpered as he watched Cas's wings stretching out behind him. They were so damn huge, fanning out to touch the entire wall and some of the ceiling. The furniture in the room was still quaking as Cas moved, still trembling as if his very presence was changing the atmosphere. Dean couldn't help but recall the first time he saw Cas in that abandoned barn, when the lights burst and sparks flew and the shingles shook with fear...

“Ah! Cas,” Dean whined, clinging to the bed as it bounced with their thrusts, “Y – yeah!”

The angel moved faster at Dean's call, pressing harder on the man's legs and giving his ass absolute hell. Dean could feel his own cock throbbing and drooling, repeatedly rubbing clear fluid against his abdomen while Cas pounded into him. Oh, God, it needed to be touched. Dean let go of the bed and brought his hand down to stroke his erection while the angel had his way with him – but, apparently, this was not a good thing to do.

In a single swoop, Cas grabbed hold of both of Dean's wrists. The angel thrust them over Dean's head, banging them against the headboard with a demanding blow. Dean cried out at the sheer force, able to feel his wrists aching with pain under Cas's unbelievably tight grip. It kind of hurt, but Dean's body was too busy feeling the dick in his ass to really focus on his wrists. The glowing angel paused to lean down between Dean's legs, positioning his shining face and vibrant eyes close to the man beneath him. Dean's cock was aching against his lower stomach, still begging to be touched, as he stared at Cas's sexy serious face.

“No, Dean,” the angel growled, his reverberating voice causing something to shatter nearby, “You will come by me. And me alone.”

An obscene whimper escaped Dean's panting mouth as the angel's words made his cock nearly stand at attention. Holy shit. Only in Dean's dreams did Cas talk that way; like a dominating sex god who commanded the very function of Dean's body. But it was as real as hell now. Pre-come was already oozing from the head of Dean's dick with just the sight of Cas's angelic form. The man forced a nod. At this rate, it wasn't going to take him long to come, anyway...

Cas kept Dean's wrists pinned to the headboard as he began to thrust again. He was pounding harder now, making Dean flinch with every strong blow. Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from Cas's body. They were trying to take in the whole sight – those powerful sapphire orbs, that glowing skin, those giant shadows of wings flexed out against the wall – his he felt himself rising to orgasm. The angel was riding his ass without remorse, thrusting and panting and glaring. And Dean was quaking underneath him, trying desperately to catch his breath while moans fought to escape his throat.

“Ah! Gnah! Cas!” Dean cried, feeling the angel's cock massaging that sensitive spot inside him.

Oh shit, Dean was close now, just teetering on the razor's edge of orgasm. He rocked his hips in unison with Cas, wanting so badly to reach the other side. The angel's grip tightened even harder on the man's wrists as he opened his mouth to speak again.

“ _Beg_ ,” the angel commanded, his celestial voice nearly bouncing off the walls.

“Please!” Dean instantly moaned, unable to deny it, “ _C – Castiel_ , _Please_! Ah, shit! G – give it to me!”

Cas answered Dean's prayer, thrusting so hard that the bed was clashing loudly against the wall. Dean groaned, balling his hands into fists as he felt the finish swelling inside him. The angel's wings were arched high above them, when Dean finally spilled over the edge. The man moaned aloud, his hips rocking involuntarily, as orgasm exploded within him. Hot semen was spraying up his stomach from his pulsing cock. Glimpses of the angel's glow flashed in Dean's sight as his eyes rolled back. His spine arched and his hands grasped and he lost all sense of motor control. For a brief space of time, Dean was unaware of the world he was in, totally lost inside pleasure and sensation.

As he carefully began to drift back down from the high place his orgasm had shot him to, Dean panted and relaxed against the bed. Though his sight was slightly blurry, Dean watched the angel's glow slowly fading from his skin. The man fought to keep his eyes all the way open so that he could soak in the sight of Cas's wings and glowing body for as long as possible. The more the angel's shine faded away, the darker the room became. And once Cas was all the way back inside his vessel, the room was completely black. Heavy breathing was the only sound against the silence.

Dean felt like he couldn't move, like a large object had been place on top of his body. He was physically drained, but still buzzing with pleasure. He blinked toward Cas's silhouette in the dark, wanting to say something. But he couldn't bring himself to speak. Shit, that was the best orgasm Dean had ever had and he felt like he needed to tell Cas that. He needed to let Cas know how much he appreciated the effort that the angel put into everything; how thankful he was that Cas was so generous with pleasure and thoughtful with Dean's fantasies. But Dean couldn't talk. He was so overwhelmed with what had just taken place that he couldn't even find his voice.

“Dean?” Cas whispered in the dark, his voice low and back to normal.

Dean wanted to say something. Honestly, he did. But his voice was gone. Cas gently released his grip from Dean's wrists, which sent a large jolt of pain down the man's arms. Dean groaned again, letting his arms fall against his chest as he rolled to the side. Shit. He didn't know how bad his wrists were hurt until now. Dean blinked at his arms in the dark, trying to see if they were okay. Were they bruised or bleeding? He couldn't tell.

“Dean,” Cas repeated, this time sounding worried, “Are – are you hurt?”

Though he didn't want to, Dean forced himself to nod. He didn't want Cas to feel bad about it, but damn his arms were aching all the way down to his elbows. Did Cas break his wrists or something? The angel carefully shifted closer to the man on the bed, easing over to peer down at him. Dean tried his best to look up at Cas in the dark, though he could barely see him. The man suddenly felt the angel gingerly cradling his wrist with gentle precaution. Though the pain echoed down Dean's arm at the slightest movement, he let Cas take his aching hands.

Just as Dean was about to ask Cas what he was doing, another light began to glow – only this time, it was from Cas's lips. They were glowing against Dean's wrist as the angel carefully pressed a healing kiss to the painful area. Dean gulped at the sight, feeling emotion swelling in his chest. It was amazing how fast Cas could go from a 'powerful dominating sex-god,' to 'sweet innocent angel.' There he was again, melting Dean's pain away without Dean ever having to say a word. Sure, the 'celestial badass' side of Cas turned Dean on like nothing else, but _this_ side of him – the Cas that cared so deeply, and gave so willingly, and loved so passionately – was the part that Dean truly fell in love with.

The angel gave Dean's other wrist a healing kiss too, planting his glowing lips to the edge of his hand. Once he released it, the light disappeared again, leaving the two of them to stare toward each other in the dark.

“My deepest apologies, Dean,” Cas breathed, his voice like satin against the silence.

Apologies? What the hell was Cas apologizing for? Dean shook his head a little at Cas's strange statement before reaching up to tug the angel's head down. Their lips collided in a moist impact, carefully splitting to let their tongues meet. Dean kissed the angel with as much fierceness he could muster, because emotion was still flowing through his veins. He wanted Cas to know how much he appreciated him. How much he _loved_ him.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean finally whispered, feeling his own lips quivering, “Don't apologize. That – that was freakin' _amazing_.”

Dean could feel Cas smiling against his lips in the dark. The angel ran his hand up the back of Dean's head and gently raked his fingers against Dean's scalp as he brought their foreheads together.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it, Dean,” Cas replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... did I mention that I have a thing for Dom!Cas? ;) As stated in the AN in the original, the idea for Cas's healing kisses came from Doctor Who, in the episode "The Angels Take Manhattan." The Doctor heals River Song's wrist with a kiss and his regenerative powers. It was so sweet.  <3 :) And seeing as Full-Angel!Cas tends to hurt Dean unintentionally, I thought it would be appropriate to add it in. ;) I know I say this everyday, but thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I'm so glad that you all are enjoying this story! :) The next chapter will be out soon! <3


	6. Chapter 6

A low night breeze was casually wafting into the hotel room as Castiel cradled Dean against his chest. The angel eyed the broken glass shards on the carpeted floor under the window while he gently caressed Dean's scalp with his fingers. The curtain swayed around as the cool air sailed in, causing the street light beyond to tease the dark room with illumination. Castiel didn't realize he had broken the window during their passionate – and somewhat _dangerous_ – intercourse. Then again, he didn't realize he had broken Dean's wrists, either...

The angel's blue eyes wandered their way back to the man laying on top of him. Cas assumed that Dean had fallen asleep because they had been lying in this position for quite sometime; Castiel flat on his back with Dean's cheek resting against his chest and arms thrown across him. Perhaps the physical exertion of sex had drained the man's stamina. Cas repeatedly raked his fingertips through Dean's damp hair, slowly and comfortingly massaging his scalp as they lay in silence. The angel still felt terrible about hurting him, even if it was done unintentionally. But Dean seemed content, regardless of the injury. Perhaps the pain coincided with the man's subconscious desire to be dominated.

Castiel took a generous breath and eyed the top of Dean's head. What was it about power that Dean found so attractive? Why did he prefer to beg for pleasure? How did he find such comfort and happiness in being penetrated? Was there something Castiel was missing? The angel gently rubbed the back of Dean's head, filling his lungs with the man's addicting pheromones. Cas wanted to ask these pestering questions out loud and receive answers, but he remained silent. A peaceful atmosphere had settled in the room that he did not wish to disturb. And if Dean truly was asleep, he did not want to wake him.

Instead, Castiel carefully raised his free hand to place over Dean's. The angel couldn't help but indulge in the tranquil silence – the quiet wisp of air flowing through the broken window, Dean's steady heartbeat drumming against his stomach, the warm breath from the man's mouth brushing over his chest – and feel abundantly grateful. If he had known that rebelling against heaven would reward him with the precious gift of Dean Winchester's love, Castiel would have done it long before it was truly necessary.

“You broke Mount Rushmore.”

Castiel blinked at the sound of Dean's gruff voice, his fingers slowing to a stop in the man's warm hair. The angel shifted on the bed slightly, tilting his head to the side in order to peer at Dean's face. Contrary to Cas's assumption, Dean's eyes were open and strikingly emerald as they gazed toward the right side of the room. The man appeared tired but no less content, wearing a hidden smile on his lips. Castiel wrapped his fingers around Dean's hand as he studied the man's face.

“What?” Cas whispered, still unwilling to disrupt the silence.

Dean's eyes remained fixed toward the wall as he briefly raised a hand to point. Castiel followed the man's finger across the room.

“Mount Rushmore,” Dean mumbled again, his lips moving against Cas's bare chest, “You broke it.”

It took Castiel a moment to realize that Dean was referring to a picture on the wall. The frame was crooked on the flat surface, barely remaining on the nail. The glass was broken with jagged shards still protruding from the corners of the frame. The picture itself was tilted in the wooden square. It was an image of men's faces sculpted into a rock formation. Castiel gulped at the sight, feeling guilty. He never meant to destroy all of the furnishings in the room...

“It doesn't belong here, anyway,” Dean commented, his hot breath still caressing Castiel's bare skin, “The last thing we need is a couple of dead presidents staring at our naked asses while we get it on.”

Castiel stared at the picture for a moment longer before bringing his eyes back to Dean's smiling face. The man dragged his head up to meet the angel's eyes and grinned as he rested his hard chin on Cas's chest. It warmed Castiel's heart to see such comfort and satisfaction in Dean's expression; to know he was absolutely happy. After a moment, Dean's eyes wandered away from Cas's and gazed beyond him to focus on something else – and surprise slowly crossed his lovely features.

“Damn,” the man mumbled, eying the area, “Did we do that, too?”

Castiel followed Dean's sight once more to see what he was speaking about. Behind the angel, just over his shoulder, was the wooden headboard – or, rather, the _hole_ in the headboard. A large chunk was missing now, having been punctured out when Castiel rammed Dean's hands against it. Another rush of guilt fell over the angel as he eyed the splintered wood. He honestly did not mean to ruin everything. He only wanted to make Dean happy, not injure him and break the nice room they shared.

“It... appears so,” Castiel answered, slowly turning his head back to meet Dean's stare, “I feel terrible. I only wanted to turn your fantasy into reality, Dean.”

It was true. Castiel didn't want Dean to long for something he thought he couldn't have, when the angel was more than capable of supplying it. The man's grin widened, as he eased up closer to Cas's face.

“Oh, you _did_ , Cas. And it was freakin' perfect. Broken headboard and all,” he replied, craning his neck.

The angel's eyes fluttered shut as their lips met. An extra jolt of satisfaction raced through him at the taste of Dean's mouth. Perhaps destroying the nice room wasn't as terrible as Castiel thought. It seemed to be just what Dean wanted. The man pulled away after a moment and Castiel could see something new in his expression; a hint of seriousness mixed with curiosity.

“Well, you got the full tour of all my dirty little secrets,” he uttered, studying Cas's face, “including the nice bit about panties that I swore I'd never tell anyone... So, what does the inside of _your_ closet look like, Cas?”

Castiel tilted his head a bit.

“I – I do not own a closet, Dean,” he carefully answered, wondering what exactly the man was talking about.

Dean huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes, lowering his head to rest his sharp chin upon Cas's. The smile, however, remained intact on his pouting lips as he spoke against the angel's mouth.

“I'm talking about fantasies, huggie-bear,” Dean corrected, “What's yours?”

This question seemed to catch Castiel off guard. For a moment, all he could do was stare down into Dean's open vibrant green eyes and ponder. Before being taught the proper techniques of preforming solo, Castiel had never taken the time to actually think about intercourse. To him, sex among humans was just a more complex version of animal mating. But now that he and Dean were so close, Cas realized that there was so much more to coitus than just penetration and ejaculation. There was _heat_ , and _affection_ , and _emotion_ ; accentuating and magnifying the physical contact associated with intercourse. Castiel knew now, just how powerful sex could be.

The angel attempted to find an answer to Dean's question while they stared at each other in the dark. What _was_ Castiel's fantasy? Did he even have one? Dean had stated before that a fantasy was something that a person craved to be true, even though it seemed to be impossible. And there was only one thing that came to mind, when Castiel thought about it...

“Honestly, Dean,” the angel sighed, reaching up to touch Dean's warm face, “it feels like I'm already living in one.”

The man's green eyes appeared to soften in the dark as he searched Cas's face. It seemed that he understood what Castiel was trying to say – that the only fantasy Castiel truly had was being with Dean like this; intimate, both physically and emotionally. Bonding over shared secrets and learning to trust one another like never before. Castiel's only fantasy was to simply be with Dean.

Dean cleared his throat and blinked away momentarily before shifting on top of Cas.

“That's real nice, Cas,” he whispered, “But... Don't you have some freaky angelic kink that you've never told anybody about, huh? Don't you wanna do it in a weird position or in some weird place?”

At Dean's words, a memory suddenly returned to Castiel's mind; one of Dean saying something in passing about a specific location... The angel's eyes widened a tiny bit as he searched the man's face and Dean seemed to notice the change in his demeanor.

“What? You think of something?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“I'm unsure if it can be considered a fantasy,” Castiel replied, “but, yes. I just thought of something. A place.”

The smile was back on Dean's lips at full capacity, brightening his entire face.

“Well, alright, let's go,” he urged, suddenly getting up to crawl off the bed.

Castiel's eyebrows drew together as he watched the man moving away. Go? Did he mean right now? Dean seemed more than eager, sliding off the bed to stand on his feet. His exhaustion seemed to have instantly faded away. Where did his energy come from all of the sudden?

“Come on,” he pressed, reaching down to pat the side of Cas's leg, “Get those wings in gear. We're burning moonlight.”

Castiel did as Dean requested, carefully sliding off the bed to join him. But he was still curious as to why Dean was so adamant about this. The man was practically glowing with enthusiasm. Dean forced the angel's arms around him before wrapping his own around Cas's torso.

“But, Dean,” Cas breathed, “I didn't say where it was. What if you do not approve of the place that I - ?”

“I don't give a shit if we land in the Barbie aisle of a Toys-R-Us,” Dean interrupted, his eyes intensely serious, “If it's something you want, we're gonna do it.”

“Why?” Castiel blurted, feeling slightly confused.

“Because I love you, dammit,” the man replied, his deep voice housing pure honesty, “and it's about time I started showing it.”

Castiel shook his head, feeling a strange form of guilt trying to take root in his chest. He already knew that Dean loved him. Why did the man think he needed to prove it?

“Dean, I already know that you -”

“Just start flapping,” Dean interrupted, a peaceful smile resting on his lips.

Castiel took a deep breath. If Dean truly had his heart set on going to the place Castiel had chosen, than the angel could only grant his request. Tightening his grip around the man's warm body, Castiel quickly flew them to his selected location. Their bare feet landed in the warm sand and the smell of salt was quick to fill their noses. It was significantly warmer here than in the hotel room; a roughly twenty degree difference. Castiel blinked his gaze toward the west and took in the magnificent sight of his father's creation.

The vast ocean stretched all the way to the glowing horizon to touch the sinking sun. It was almost nightfall in this part of the world and the sky was fading from pink-orange to deep purple. The waves of sea were softly crashing against the sandy shore as a heated breeze combed across the beach. Castiel took a deep breath of salty air as he turned to fully face the sunset. Just as it always did, this place seemed to fill the angel with awed humbleness. Aside from humanity, this was truly his father's greatest work; the world in all its wondrous and powerful beauty.

Dean carefully let go of Cas and took a step back. The man was hesitant to open his eyes, perhaps worried Castiel had taken them somewhere he did not favor. But when the jade orbs were able to finally behold the scenery, a sense of calmness dropped back over the man's features. Castiel smiled and reached out to take Dean's hand. It comforted him to know Dean was relaxed in this setting.

“Wait,” the man said over the crashing waves, turning to glance all around, “Haven't we been here before?”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel answered, watching the ocean breeze toss around his soft hair, “I brought you here when you asked me to take you to the most beautiful place in the world.”

Understanding lit up the man's face. For a brief moment, it appeared that the two of them were recalling the event when Dean confessed about the hardship he faced with John Winchester, and first admitted his love for Castiel... A small smile eased over Dean's precious lips as he glanced around again.

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled, eying Cas's mouth, “Where is this place, anyway?”

“I believe it is part of Australia,” Castiel answered.

Dean nodded a bit before glancing toward the open beach. He seemed to be shifting closer to Cas in the sand and casually covering himself with his free palm. Perhaps he was afraid someone else might see him in the nude. Before Castiel could inform Dean that they were completely alone, however, the man was asking another question.

“Why'd you pick this place? You know, other than the amazing view,” he asked.

Castiel glanced down at their feet in the sand, where their toes were peeking out from the warm grains. There was, in fact, a reason Cas decided to bring Dean here.

“The last time we were here, you mentioned something,” Castiel replied over the roaring waves, feeling heat rising on his own cheeks, “Something about... sex on the beach.”

A grin flashed on Dean's face at the words. His cheeks seemed to redden the slightest bit as well. Castiel was still uncertain if intercourse on a beach was truly a fantasy, but it was something that had triggered his interest for sure. It seemed like a wonderful thing to do; to make love to Dean in the most beautiful place in the world.

“You're damn right I did,” Dean stated, stepping even closer to Castiel to wrap his arms around him.

Their mouths were suddenly pressed together again as the ocean breeze graced their bare skin. Chills rose on the angels' flesh at the familiar taste of Dean's kiss. But the man pulled away again before he could become too enveloped.

“You better not get sand in my ass, though,” Dean warned, his smile remaining.

The comment brought Castiel back to his earlier thoughts on the matter. What was it about being penetrated that Dean adored? Was Castiel unaware of some secret pleasure lurking there? Perhaps there was only one way to find out.

“Actually, Dean, I – I would like to try... switching roles with you,” the angel spoke up.

Dean's eyebrows slightly pursed together as the dimming sun highlighted his shining face.

“Switching - ? You mean, you wanna be the bottom this time?” the man asked, making sure.

Assuming that 'the bottom' meant 'the one being penetrated,' Castiel gave a slow nod. He needed to know how if felt from Dean's point of view during intercourse, to see why it appealed to his sexual nature. And Dean seemed more than willing to oblige the angel's request. He nodded in unison with Cas for a moment to show his agreement before rejoining their lips.

The taste of the ocean was already harbored on Dean's soft lips. The savory flavor mixed between them as Castiel guided Dean closer to the crashing waves. The moist sand was a more sturdy alternative to the shifting grains they were standing in, and the angel thought it to be a more sensible place to stage their intercourse. Once in his desired spot, Castiel lowered himself to lay in the wet sand, parting his lips from Dean's in order to get in position. The man lingered above him for a moment and eyed along the angel's bare body as a playful – and aroused – smile appeared on his face.

“You'd make the perfect cover for Sports Illustrated,” Dean mused, as he carefully lowered himself to the sand with the angel.

Dismissing Dean's strange reference, Castiel reached up to tug him into another kiss. The familiar spark of erotic heat was beginning to ignite in his stomach, causing blood to quickly rush to his lower half. The sight of Dean's naked body in this perfect place – his tan skin softened by the setting sun, his dark hair waving with the breeze, his green eyes vibrant against the red-orange sky – was making the anticipation of intercourse unbearable.

Dean was quick to respond to Castiel's physical commands, pressing his bare torso to the angel's and hooking a hand under one of Cas's thighs. The cool ocean water was washing against their lower legs as Dean carefully lifted the angel's lower half. The man dipped his hand in the salty liquid, before rubbing his fingertips against Castiel's entrance. The sensation was a bit bizarre, being a gentle reminder that this was not the proper way to have sex. But Cas welcomed the wet rough finger that wiggled its way inside and prodded the muscle loose. Its abnormal presence was startlingly pleasant, given that Dean was kissing him in the process, providing comfort and relief as he readied Castiel for intercourse.

Waves were still crashing against the shore, adding lovely sound to the space, when Dean ejected his fingers and shifted to position his erection against the hole. Castiel aided him, pulling his own limbs back to give the man a clear trajectory. Their lips parted once more as Dean looked down to guide himself inside. The angel panted below him as he allowed the sensation to sink in. He was still anticipating an astounding amount of pleasure to befall him in the wake of being penetrated, but so far, there was only strange discomfort.

“Shit, you're so _tight_ ,” Dean nearly groaned, his hand clutching a fistful of wet sand.

Castiel hummed a little at the sound of the man's enjoyment. Providing Dean with pleasure was almost as good as receiving it from him. The man's enormous shaft was gradually beginning to slide in and out of the opening, coaxing the muscle to loosen further. But Castiel clenched against it, adoring the sight of pure arousal on Dean's face.

“Ah,” Dean whimpered, trying his best to thrust, “S – son of a bitch.”

The angel raised a sandy hand to pull Dean back down into another kiss. The gritty grains tumbled down the moist slope of the man's back as Castiel slid his arm around Dean's shoulder. He was thrusting harder now, nearly pounding Cas's tailbone deeper into the wet sand. The stretching and discomfort from earlier preparation was gradually fading, leaving pleasure to take over in its wake. Castiel rocked with Dean's steady motions, feeling his own member throbbing with satisfaction. It was so nice to have Dean sharing his vessel. Perhaps this was the reason Dean favored the 'bottom,' because opening your body to accommodate someone else's was the most power way of giving yourself to them.

Dean's moans were mixing with the crash of waves as his hips picked up speed. Castiel's own erection was swollen, now. The needy organ was repeatedly rubbing against the angel's lower stomach with Dean's motions, teasing him with pleasure. Castiel casually reached down to grasp it as the man worked; slowly tugging on the hot shaft with his grainy hand. The cool water continued to wash against their lower legs, only receding to allow another wave to crest. The angel kept hold of Dean's shoulder as he massaged himself, feeling pleasure both inside and out. Dean's stiff organ was prodding against a sensitive spot within.

The two of them panted into each others' faces, huffing humid air, as Dean thrust hungrily. Castiel was completely distracted by the emerald hues and was unaware that the sea water had pulled away drastically. But by the time the angel realized a large wave was forming beyond Dean, it was too late to give a warning. A huge curl of salt water crashed over the man's back, strong enough to smash them into the sand and yank them apart. The water quickly receded, leaving both of them to roll around on the shore and gasp for air. Castiel instantly crawled toward Dean in the sand, fearing he was hurt. But the man was actually _laughing_ ; chuckling wholeheartedly as he carefully slid away from the water.

“Ugh,” he smiled, coughing a bit, “I think I swallowed a crab.”

Castiel was worried about Dean's safety, but the sight of the man's throbbing erection jutting up into the air – swaying with stiffness as it glistened with moisture – made erotic approval rush through him. The angel whooshed himself to hover over Dean, instantly reaching down to guide the shaft back inside him. Salt water was dripping from Cas's hair and onto Dean's heaving chest as he moved, gently sliding down on the erection. Castiel wasted no time reviving their momentum, beginning to bounce on Dean's lap.

A groan escaped Dean's mouth at the sensation and his large sandy hands reached up to clutch the angel's moving thighs. Even though the wave had interrupted them, the pleasure was quick to begin increasing again. Castiel's erection was bouncing with his movements as if it were trying to get Dean's attention. And it appeared to work, because the man slurred profanities as he reached over to take hold of the angel's dancing shaft.

“Ah!” Cas whimpered, “D – Dean!”

For a moment, Castiel was unsure of which direction to move; confused by the radiation of pleasure from the inside and outside. Dean was sliding his grainy hand tightly along the angel's hard organ, tugging with the skill of a talented professional. Castiel could feel an orgasm rapidly approaching, tightening his muscles and forcing him to move faster. The angel was bouncing fiercely on Dean's lap, hard enough to dent the sand beneath them. Dean's skin was so beautiful when it was covered in sand. His green eyes were so lovely against the warm sunlight. His erection felt so solid inside Castiel, throbbing and ready to fire...

“Gnah! Ah!” the angel groaned out, feeling his organ beginning to erupt in Dean's tight palm.

Orgasm was upon Cas like a massive storm; clouding his mind while his body released. Opaque fluid doused Dean's heaving chest, splattering white spots all over him as the angel convulsed in his lap. For a brief moment, the only thing Castiel was aware of was Dean's powerful presence. As he lost all sense of motor control and thoughts became jumbled in his mind, Castiel could only cling to Dean and repeat his name.

Just as blissful euphoria began to dissipate from the angel's body, Dean's began seizing up. He was thrusting faster and curling upward, hammering with everything he had. Once able to recognize his own functions again, Castiel aided him; clenching and bouncing and rubbing the man's chest.

“Oh, sh – shit!” Dean panted, his fingers tightening on the angel's thighs, “Ahh! _Cas_!”

Castiel was sure Dean was ejaculating now, watching the man's eyes roll around and his neck muscles strain. The feeling of Dean's erection pulsing inside him was almost incomprehensible. It was such a beautiful and personal act, so intimate and meaningful. Cas couldn't help but smile as it was taking place. Yes, there was definitely more to being penetrated than just the physical action. There was so much more...

Castiel continued to bounce until Dean began quaking with sensitivity. Afterward, the man suddenly dropped flat against the sand and blinked toward the sky in a daze. The smell of the ocean was still heavy in the humid air as the two of them attempted to catch their breath. Castiel gently tipped over to join Dean in the sand, carefully maneuvering the man's erection out of his body in the process. They were laying next to each other then, nestled close, side by side, as they stared toward the orange sky. Dean's sandy hand crawled its way over to find the angel's.

“Couldn't have dreamed it better myself,” the man mumbled.

Castiel smiled and rolled his head in the sand to look at Dean's precious face. The man's eyes seemed to be gradually attempting to close, the lids barely open as he returned Castiel's gaze. Upon seeing the angel's smile, a grin appeared on Dean's own lips and his fingers tightened around Cas's. A meaningful expression briefly rested on his wet face and his eyes closed all the way.

“Your dad... is a pretty good artist,” he mumbled again, referring to the ocean.

The angel's eyes searched all over the man's features, watching him drift to sleep. Castiel was glad that Dean had chosen to journey here; to show his affections in the same manner Cas did for him. There was no more mystery between them anymore. No stone left unturned. Dean and Castiel knew each other better now than they ever had before. And it overwhelmed the angel with pride.

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel whispered, reaching out to touch the face of the most beautiful thing his father had ever created, “I agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm as big a fan of dirty/kinky smut as the next shipper, but humorous/romantic smut? That's my fav. And I think it would be Cas's favorite as well. ;) By the way, our two stories - both Destiel and Sabriel parts - are about to converge in the next chapter! And it is Hilarious. :D Thank you guys so much for reading along! The next chapter will be out soon! <3


	7. Chapter 7

“I need pie.”

Dean's eyes shifted under their closed lids at Cas's low voice humming beside him. The man was aware of the gentle lulling sound of his favorite angel's voice, but sleep was still heavy over him and he didn't comprehend the words. Dean's arm curled tighter around Cas's warm soft body as he tried to ignore daylight shining against his eyelids. He knew for a fact that he had not gotten his four hours in yet. And, daylight be damned, he wasn't about to wake up now.

“Yes. Pie,” Cas spoke again, giving a slight pause before saying, “Flavor? Does it matter?”

Although Dean adored hearing Cas speak – especially in that short tone, with a twinge of sass mixed in – the sound was starting to annoy him. The bed was so damn comfortable, so fluffy and warm that he didn't want to wake up. Dean could sleep for days in this thing if given the chance. He began to wonder why was Cas disturbing his well-earned slumber. But, more adamantly, he wondered who the hell the angel was talking to...

“Fine,” the angel huffed, “I'll take one of each, then... I'm not concerned with that... Yes. One of each. Wake the chef if you need – What? You don't have a chef? Then who prepares your food?... A catalog? How can a booklet provide you with nourishment?”

Dean had reached the end of his patience and the peek of his curiosity. The man forced an eye open against the harsh light to roll it toward Cas. His sight focused on the angel beside him, whose silhouette was glowing with warmth in the morning light. A memory of the night before instantly returned to Dean's mind as he glanced along Cas's glowing chest and bright face. This was almost how Cas looked when he went full celestial during sex; lit up and powerful, with that jaw clinched tight and his sapphire eyes beaming. God, it was the sexiest thing Dean had ever experienced. Just thinking about it made his lower stomach tense. And he wasn't even fully awake yet.

While his one open eye roamed over the angel beside him, Dean realized that Cas was holding a phone to his ear. It was the phone from the bedside table, the chunky plastic kind with the ridiculously long coil that could stretch forever. The man blinked toward Cas's face, feeling a bit confused. Why the hell was Cas on the phone? They were still laying naked in bed together. Dean's arm and leg were wrapped around him and the angel's arm was cradling the man's back. Was just laying here really so boring that Cas had to call someone to keep himself entertained?

“Nevermind,” Cas grumbled into the phone, his narrowed eyes focused on the far wall, “Just bring them here... Room 69b... Yes... Thank you.”

After giving a small irritated sigh, the angel carefully leaned away to put the phone back on the hook. Dean's arm instinctively tightened around Cas when he moved, not wanting the bodily heat between them to escape. It still bugged him that Cas had chosen to talk to someone else – probably room service, from the sound of it – but dammit, the angel looked so pretty in the morning light; sex hair spiked out in every direction, vivid eyes translucent in the sunshine, skin looking so soft and smooth. No one had the right to look this good the morning after raw strenuous sex.

Dean shifted lazily on the bed, slowly raising his head enough to plant a wet kiss on the cavity of Cas's bare chest. The angel's skin was warm against the man's lips and felt just as soft as it looked. Dean could feel Cas's hand drawing tighter against his back.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas said softly, his tone much sweeter than when he was speaking on the phone.

Dean smiled a little and blinked up to meet Cas's eyes. The guy looked almost relieved, like he had been waiting for Dean to wake up. The man's mouth was still roaming over the angel's torso, nipping and licking and kissing, when he spoke.

“Mornin', Cas,” Dean mumbled, lips and breath brushing dangerously close to one of Cas's nipples, “Were you trying to run up Sammy's hotel bill by calling collect?”

“No, Dean,” Cas replied, his hand sliding up Dean's back to rake into his hair, “I was talking to -”

The angel's voice came to an abrupt halt when Dean lowered his head to suction his mouth over Cas's sensitive nipple. The corners of Dean's rounded lips curved upward as he flicked his tongue against the hard nub. Cas's face was so priceless; eyes wide and mouth dangling open, giving a heated exhale. Getting Cas's motor running was easier than Dean thought. Hell, it didn't take much effort at all. The smallest inappropriate touch was enough to make those blue eyes glow with lust. Dean tugged his mouth away with a wet 'pop' and couldn't help but grin like a proud idiot afterward.

“You were saying?” he urged, snaking his hand down under the bedsheets.

Dean loved watching Cas struggle for words as he groped him under the comforter. The angel's dick was soft and grainy, gradually warming and stiffening at Dean's touch. Dean couldn't help but think that his was a great way to start the day; molesting your favorite person in the midst of your broken hotel room the morning after the best night of sex you ever had.

“I – I was, uh... um...” Cas stuttered, watching the duvet moving with Dean's hand.

A small chuckle escaped Dean's mouth and he suddenly realized that he wanted to wake up this way forever. He wanted to play with Cas while they lay naked together in the morning light. He wanted to kiss the angel whenever, and however, he could. He wanted to hear Cas's voice before anything else and feel Cas's limbs tighten around him with affection... It couldn't get any better. Heaven couldn't hold a candle to this.

Cas's fingers spread open against the back of Dean's head and tugged the man up to bring their lips together. Dean's eyes closed again he kissed his angel. The flavor was reviving the memories of the night before, all the mind-blowing sex and whispered words and amazing sights. Dean's eyes flashed open again at the thought of warm sand and salty breezes. Didn't they fall asleep somewhere on a random-ass beach? He didn't dream up that whole thing with the ocean, did he?

“Weren't we on the beach?” Dean suddenly asked, mumbling his way out of their kiss to look at Cas properly.

“We were,” the angel nodded, shifting his groin under Dean's cupped palm, “You fell asleep there. I returned us last night.”

Dean's smile turned soft as he searched the angel's face, remembering the amazing view of the sunset on the horizon, and the sound of waves tumbling against the shore, and the feeling of thrusting in and out of Cas's warm body while they dug deeper into the sand... Man. When it came to fantasies, Cas sure knew how to pick them.

“That was awesome,” Dean commented, still impressed by the whole night, “Almost as awesome as watching you come out of that meat-suit.”

“Uh... I'm glad you – ah – enjoyed it, D – Dean,” Cas replied, still glancing toward the spot where Dean's hand was groping his dick under the blanket.

Dean chuckled and was about to lean in for another kiss, when a soft knock came from the door. Cas's blue eyes widened the tiniest bit at the sound, making his lusty stare snap back to seriousness.

“I will return momentarily,” the angel whispered.

In a flash, Cas was gone, causing Dean to topple flat on the bed in his sudden absence. The man blinked a few times and climbed back up to rest on his elbows. God, he hated when Cas disappeared like that. The suite door was opening across the room, so the man assumed Cas had flown over there to get it. Dean rolled his eyes at the hushed voices. It was probably just the cleaning lady or something. There was absolutely no freakin' need for Cas to _fly_ over there instead of just walking and leave Dean tangled in the heap of their sandy blankets. And, yes, the sheets were really _sandy_. Dean lifted the blanket to glance down at the stray grains of sand peppered all over his own naked body in the midst of white cloth and couldn't help but smile. If he needed any proof that last night was real, it was right there staring him in the face.

Cas and the person at the door were still talking – more like arguing, by the tone of Cas's sexy irritated voice – which left Dean to lay there and wait on him. The man glanced over at the bedside table, where the chunky plastic phone was and spotted a pamphlet laying next to it. It was a room service card, one of those typical menus that tried to entice rich people to buy food from the kitchen. As he eyed the paper menu, Dean realized it was why Cas had been on the phone. There was a giant picture of a slice of pie on the front with fruit filling oozing out so temptingly. Aw, hell. Did Cas really order food? From the kitchen? For _him_?

“I'm so sorry, Dean.”

The man's head snapped toward the left, where Cas was walking back into the bedroom. Only he wasn't just walking – he was pushing a huge cart toward the bed, too. Dean's jaw fell open and he instantly sat up straight, eying the cart rolling toward him. The metal shelves were covered in slices of pie, nearly two dozen plates, all sitting in uniform rows. It looked like every flavor was present, right down to pumpkin and rhubarb. Dean's mouth started watering while he glanced in awe from pastry to pastry. Holy shit, that was a lot of pie! Cas looked just as good as the food did, strutting behind the cart with his bare-naked ass on display for the world to see. This had to be a dream, right? Was Dean still sleeping?

“I assumed they would bring whole pies,” Cas uttered in annoyance, making Dean realize that the angel's face was skewed with aggravation as he slowed the cart to a stop at the bed, “Not single slices. Perhaps I should call again and request -”

“No,” Dean interrupted, still eying the staggering amount of delicious looking pie, “Cas, baby, this is _perfect_. Why... Why the hell did you get all this?”

A tiny smile slid back over Cas's pink lips, making the glare fade from his expression. The angel carefully walked around the glorious cart full of pie – which gave Dean a full view of his half-hard dick swaying around with his steps – and brought himself to sit beside the man. There was a softer look in his blue eyes now, like he was thinking of a precious memory.

“Because, I love you... dammit,” the angel said carefully, reciting Dean's words on purpose, “and it is both an honor and a privilege to prove it to you, Dean.”

Some giant formation was suddenly lodged in Dean's throat as he sat staring glassy-eyed at Cas. Aw, hell. It made Dean feel so damn good to be told things like that, to be reminded that he meant so much to someone. That he was _loved_ no matter how much he had screwed up or how many flaws he had. Cas was still gonna love him anyway and keep on proving it over and over. The man tried his best to clear his throat as a smile twitched on his own lips.

“You halo-wearing, harp-playing, fluffy-winged son of a bitch,” Dean grinned, giving a hard chuckle as he reached up to cup the side of Cas's soft face, “If I loved you anymore, I think your dad might strike me dead.”

Cas's eyebrows knitted together and his head tilted slightly in Dean's palm.

“I do not know how to play the harp, Dean. And I would never allow _anyone_ to strike you dead,” the angel mumbled, taking Dean's words literally. As always.

“Nevermind,” Dean said, rolling his eyes as he leaned closer, “Just gimme those pink lips.”

They kissed again, fully this time, with tongues circling and lips pouting. Man, there was nothing like the feeling Cas gave Dean. He was again reminded of warm whiskey flowing through his veins. If this was what it felt like to be _so in love_ , then he never wanted it to go away. Cas pulled out of their joined mouths first, taking a deep breath against Dean's lips.

“Which piece would you like first, Dean?” the angel asked sweetly, reaching out to pull the cart in front of them.

Dean grinned and glanced over his many options again. Damn, they all looked good. How was he supposed to choose? His hand fell to clutch Cas's thigh as he tried to decide. Maybe strawberry? No, apple. No, wait, that pecan pie looked really warm and gooey. Ugh, he felt so jittery with excitement trying to figure out which one to pick, like a kid on Christmas trying to pick which present to open first.

“Screw it. I'll take the chocolate,” Dean finally sighed, his face glowing with a mega-watt smile.

Cas was grinning too, when he retrieved the plate for him. The man gave a small sigh as he took the plate in his hand, still eying the mousse-like chestnut-colored filling. His mouth was watering at the smell as he brought the pie close to his mouth. Dean was about to slide the slice forward and bite a piece off the rim of the plate – when a naughty idea struck him. He and Cas were still experimenting with fantasies, right? And wasn't it a common fantasy for everyone to involve food in sex somehow? Hell, Dean couldn't think of a sexier food than pie. Maybe Cas would be willing to eat some... off of his body...

Dean turned to give Cas the most suggestive look he could muster, before tilting the plate in his hand. The pie slowly slid off the rounded porcelain and splatted into Dean's lap, just like he wanted. His entire crotch was covered in chocolate. The angel seemed a little bewildered, glancing from Dean's face to the chocolate mess in his lap.

“Oops,” Dean purred, leaning back to give Cas a better view, “I dropped it... Wanna clean me up?”

The man was practically handing himself over on a golden platter, stroking Cas's thigh erotically and giving him the most intense bedroom eyes ever. Dean was doing everything he could think of to appear libidinous, short of saying ' _Suck my dick, Cas_.' But the entire scheme seemed to go over Cas's angelic head.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas said, sounding matter-of-fact.

It took a minute for Dean to register that Cas was reaching for his shoulder instead of leaning over with his mouth. Before the man could stop him, the angel placed his hand against Dean's bicep and the entire mess was gone. A long exhale slowly breezed out of Dean's mouth as he dropped his eyes to his clean lap. His limp dick was staring toward the floor with disappointment. Well, _that_ didn't go as planned. So much for food fantasies...

“Is something wrong?”

Dean returned his stare to Cas's innocent blue eyes. He wasn't really sure of what to say, now. He actually felt sort of dirty, in the sick and perverted kind of way. Maybe food-sex was a step over the line or something. Maybe they had reached their limit in fantasy exploration. But, as they sat staring at each other in the morning light, Dean noticed a new expression beginning to grow on Cas's face. His ocean eyes were widening and it looked like he had realized something.

“Oh,” he whispered lowly, gulping afterward, “You meant... with my mouth.”

Dean could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he forced a nod. At least he didn't have to say it out loud. The angel nodded back for a second before looking toward the cart. Dean watched him scoop up another plate – the one that had the slice of cherry pie – and bring it toward him. They met eyes again and Dean could see that subtle hint of dominance flickering in Cas's blue orbs. Without saying another word, Cas tipped the plate over and gently smashed into Dean's lap.

The grin flashed back on the man's face while he watched the angel smearing the warm gooey substance all over his crotch. There was still heat in Dean's cheeks and he still felt a little perverted. But, man, the feeling of warm pie on his dick was really getting him excited. Cas lifted the plate after he was done and reached down to scrape the biggest chunks back onto it before placing it back on the cart. His giant sapphire eyes were staring at Dean with intensity as he shifted himself into the floor, running his hands along the man's legs and maneuvering himself between his knees.

Dean gulped at the sight of Cas's precious face so close to his messy dick. The whole thing was basically red now, covered in sweet gooey cherry filling. The man's heart began to hammer inside his ribcage when Cas's tongue fell out to lick a line up his cock. Dean's hands were suddenly clutching fist-fulls of the bed. Oh, man. This was gonna be better than he thought...

Cas was slow at first, deliberately lapping up the pie filling off the edges of Dean's balls and the base of his cock. By the time he got to the head, Dean's dick was already half-way to an erection, flicking toward Cas's hot wet mouth with urgency. The man was nearly panting already, wanting so badly for Cas to just take the damn thing in his mouth. But the angel was swirling his tongue around the tip, carefully tugging the skin back with his gentle fingers as he cleaned the filling from all the sensitive creases. Ugh, why wouldn't he just suck it already?

“Shit,” Dean sighed, rocking his hips a little, “Cas, please.”

Cas slurped his tongue back into his mouth and smiled up at the man, still holding his cock between those tight fingers. The dominance in his eyes was unmistakable now, practically shining with authority.

“Please what?” Cas hissed, his smirk housing too much sin for angel.

Dean groaned a little. Cas knew damn well what the man was asking for. Dean could see that Cas just wanted to hear him say it. And, God, the angel sounded so hot demanding it to be said...

“Blow me, Cas,” Dean asked, his tone almost begging as he rocked into Cas's hand, “Gnah, p – please just _blow me_.”

The smirk was still on Cas's smug lips when he lowered his head again. Dean's dick was so thankful when he finally slid that angelic mouth over it. Shit, it was so wet and warm and tight in there, making the blood rush to swell the veins that were beginning to throb along Dean's cock. His hands had a death-grip on the bed as he watched Cas's mouth bobbing up and down his dick. Oh, God, the sight would never get old.

“Ah, yeah,” Dean moaned out, reaching a hand down to rake into Cas's silky hair, “Shit, Cas, don't – don't stop.”

Cas went a little faster, nodding in Dean's lap while his mouth suctioned more fiercely. The pleasure was radiating from Dean's cock in giant rapid waves, making the groans topple out of his mouth. No matter how much Dean tried to convince himself that a blow job was just a blow job, he couldn't deny that Cas was the master of it; gulping and sucking and stroking. Holy shit, he was such a pro...

From the corner of his eye, Dean saw something move across the floor near the foot of the bed.

Though he was still a bit preoccupied by Cas's powerful mouth latched onto his dick, Dean forced himself to glance toward it. It had been something small and sort of white, but he couldn't see it now. The man's body demanded him to dismiss it and bring his focus back to the angel between his legs. Because now Cas was teasing the head of his cock with that agile tongue, flicking it all around the drooling slit. Another moan echoed from the depths of Dean's throat. Shit, that felt so good...

The white object was moving again in Dean's peripheral vision.

Just as Cas was lowering his mouth back over his cock, Dean gave a quick glance toward the foot of the bed – and had to double-take. The white object was actually a _dog_ ; a furry little Jack Russel Terrier with brown spots on its back. Dean was panting and blinking toward it, trying to make sure he was actually seeing this thing. The dog seemed to be totally real, sniffing around the hotel floor like it was searching for something. How the hell did a dog get into the room?!

“C – Cas,” Dean tried to speak without moaning, sliding his hand from Cas's hair to tug on his shoulder, in the hope of getting him to look toward the right.

But the angel wasn't stopping. He seemed determined to get Dean to come, completely unaware that a random dog was in their room sniffing around. Dean glanced between the amazing blow job in his lap to the strange animal at the foot of the bed, trying to decide whether to hurry up and come or shoo the dog out first. It might have been an easier decision if he wasn't already so close to the end and Cas wasn't the master of giving oral. But, son of a bitch, Cas was so damn good.

Just as Dean was about to ignore the dog and focus on coming, he saw that the dog had something in his mouth. It was made of fabric – and pink. A more angered groan rumbled out from the man's lips as he watched the dog gnaw on the delicate satin. Oh,  _hell_ no! That dog was  _not_ gonna use those pink panties – the same pair Dean had kept for years – as a damn chew toy!

“Hey!” Dean shouted, hoping to scare the dog off.

The dog flinched but ignored him, rooting his nose through one of the leg holes to get tangled in the underwear. Cas slowed to a stop on Dean's dick at the sound of the man's shout and the dominance in his eyes instantly fading away. Dean wanted to glance down at Cas and make sure he could see this, too – but the dog was starting to prance away now, with Dean's pink underwear still wrapped around its head. The damn dog was headed for the door of the suite and taking Dean's panties with it!

“ _Hey_!” Dean shouted again, this time trying to get the animal to come back.

The dog was already halfway out the door when Dean stumbled to his feet. He could feel Cas's worried eyes on him, watching him scramble to grab the trench coat off the floor and thrust it on in an angered daze. But Dean couldn't stop to tell Cas about the dog. He needed to catch the damn thing before somebody found out that it was _his_ underwear tangled around its head. Dean wrapped Cas's trench coat snug around him and tied the strap around his waist as he dashed out into the hallway.

“Dean,” Cas called, his voice following closely behind, “What's wrong?”

Dean briefly glanced back to see that the angel was walking fast behind him, having put on Dean's denim jeans. The man was glad that no one else was around in the hallway to see them like this, chasing a stupid dog with barely any clothes on – and wearing each others' to top it all off. But thankfully, the mutt had stopped near a table in the hallway and was trying to shake the fabric from his head.

“This dog's got my underwear,” Dean hissed, stomping toward the animal, “Give me those, you furry little bastard!”

About the time Dean was bending down to snatch the pink panties from the dog's head, the door across the hall whipped open. And he suddenly heard a voice that he hadn't heard in a long time. It was faintly familiar and annoying as hell...

“Dickie!”

Dean snapped back up to stand and had to blink a few times toward the person striding toward him. It was Gabriel. The _archangel_ Gabriel, and he looked the same as he ever did in that short little meat-suit of his. Dean's eyes flitted from the archangel – who was wearing an over-sized plaid shirt and not much else – to the dog on the floor. Did Gabriel just called this dog Dickie? And, wait, hadn't Dean heard that name recently somewhere? Didn't someone else say it?

A split second after the archangel bounded out into the hallway, Gabriel and Dean met eyes. Seriousness and shock seemed to resonate in both of them, each just as confused as the other. Why the hell was Gabriel here in the same hotel?

“Gabriel?” Dean asked aloud, feeling totally lost.

The archangel's golden eyes flickered behind Dean and his eyebrows drew together. It took a second for Dean to realize that he was looking at _Cas_ , searching up and down the angel's bare chest and strange denim jeans. Gabriel appeared to be astounded by Cas's presence.

“Castiel?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Gabriel,” Cas sighed, sounding more annoyed than shocked.

As the three of them stood in the hallway glancing at each other with bewilderment, a new voice echoed from inside the room Gabriel had come from. And Dean _knew_ this voice, almost better than he knew his own. It was Sammy. And he was darting out into the hallway like a bat out of hell.

“Gabe, wait!” Sam called, dashing into the hallway, “Don't - !”

The kid's voice got lost and his eyes grew to the size of golf balls as he came to an abrupt halt in the hall. Dean instantly glanced over his little brother, who was nearly naked save a pair of ridiculously tight boxers that were obviously not his own. A strange mixture of extreme discomfort and anger started bubbling in Dean's stomach as he glanced from Sam to the archangel next to him. Did Sam just call him _Gabe_? And the shirt that was long enough to reach to the archangel's knees – was it really _Sammy's_? Did the two of them just come out of the _same_ motel room?! Dean briefly caught that the number on the door behind his little brother still read 69a.

“Sam?” Dean growled, suddenly demanding answers to all the questions swarming in his head.

“D – Dean,” Sam squeaked, already raising his hands up in defense.

“Sam?” Cas repeated, sounding shocked as he took a step forward.

“Cas,” Sam gulped, his cheeks growing bright red.

Dean's heart was starting to pound with hard emotion as he looked back at the trickster standing next to his little brother. What kind of cruel prank was he playing on Sam, this time?! What kind of sick, morbid things had he been doing with Dean's little brother in that room?!

“Gabriel,” Dean snarled through gritted teeth, already feeling the urge to punch something.

“Dean,” Cas spoke softly, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder, as if he was trying to convince Dean not to start swinging.

The dog on the floor was suddenly barking. All four sets of eyes looked down at the Jack Russel Terrier, who still had Dean's pink panties wrapped around his head. The dog's tail was wagging with excitement as if he liked all the commotion that was going on between the men in the hall.

“Dickie,” Gabriel and Sam both said in unison.

Dean's eyes flashed up to glance between his little brother and the trickster perched next to him. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. Sammy couldn't be on 'nick-name' terms with the the archangel. He couldn't be standing there in the trickster's underwear. Sammy couldn't be following in Dean's footsteps by falling in love with an angel...

Could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! Now everyone knows everything! ;D I totally stole that moment from Rocky Horror Picture Show for the end of this part; You know the scene where everyone's like, _"Rocky! Janet! Brad! Doctor Scott!"_ Yeah, I figured it would be the best way for Destiel and Sabriel to find out about each other. :D This was the last chapter for this part, but there are two more whole parts still to come! And I hope you guys stick around to read about all the hilarious, smutty, fluffy moments in store for the boys! :) Thank you guys so much for every comment and kudo! I love you all so much! *hugs* I'll be starting the next part tomorrow! Stay tuned! :)


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